Poems by Ralph Waldo Emerson Part 34

THE EARTH

Our eyeless bark sails free Though with boom and spar Andes, Alp or Himmalee, Strikes never moon or star.

THE HEAVENS

Wisp and meteor nightly falling, But the Stars of G.o.d remain.

TRANSITION

See yonder leafless trees against the sky, How they diffuse themselves into the air, And, ever subdividing, separate Limbs into branches, branches into twigs.

As if they loved the element, and hasted To dissipate their being into it.

Parks and ponds are good by day; I do not delight In black acres of the night, Nor my unseasoned step disturbs The sleeps of trees or dreams of herbs.

In Walden wood the chickadee Runs round the pine and maple tree Intent on insect slaughter: O tufted entomologist!

Devour as many as you list, Then drink in Walden water.

The low December vault in June be lifted high, And largest clouds be flakes of down in that enormous sky.

THE GARDEN

Many things the garden shows, And pleased I stray From tree to tree Watching the white pear-bloom, Bee-infested quince or plum.

I could walk days, years, away Till the slow ripening, secular tree Had reached its fruiting-time, Nor think it long.

Solar insect on the wing In the garden murmuring, Soothing with thy summer horn Swains by winter pinched and worn.

BIRDS

Darlings of children and of bard, Perfect kinds by vice unmarred, All of worth and beauty set Gems in Nature's cabinet; These the fables she esteems Reality most like to dreams.

Welcome back, you little nations, Far-travelled in the south plantations; Bring your music and rhythmic flight, Your colors for our eyes' delight: Freely nestle in our roof, Weave your chamber weatherproof; And your enchanting manners bring And your autumnal gathering.

Exchange in conclave general Greetings kind to each and all, Conscious each of duty done And unstained as the sun.

WATER

The water understands Civilization well; It wets my foot, but prettily It chills my life, but wittily, It is not disconcerted, It is not broken-hearted: Well used, it decketh joy, Adorneth, doubleth joy: Ill used, it will destroy, In perfect time and measure With a face of golden pleasure Elegantly destroy.

NAHANT

All day the waves a.s.sailed the rock, I heard no church-bell chime, The sea-beat scorns the minster clock And breaks the gla.s.s of Time.

SUNRISE

Would you know what joy is hid In our green Musketaquid, And for travelled eyes what charms Draw us to these meadow farms, Come and I will show you all Makes each day a festival.

Stand upon this pasture hill, Face the eastern star until The slow eye of heaven shall show The world above, the world below.

Behold the miracle!

Thou saw'st but now the twilight sad And stood beneath the firmament, A watchman in a dark gray tent, Waiting till G.o.d create the earth,-- Behold the new majestic birth!

The mottled clouds, like sc.r.a.ps of wool, Steeped in the light are beautiful.

What majestic stillness broods Over these colored solitudes.

Sleeps the vast East in pleased peace, Up the far mountain walls the streams increase Inundating the heaven With spouting streams and waves of light Which round the floating isles unite:-- See the world below Baptized with the pure element, A clear and glorious firmament Touched with life by every beam.

I share the good with every flower, I drink the nectar of the hour:-- This is not the ancient earth Whereof old chronicles relate The tragic tales of crime and fate; But rather, like its beads of dew And dew-bent violets, fresh and new, An exhalation of the time.

NIGHT IN JUNE

I left my dreary page and sallied forth, Received the fair inscriptions of the night; The moon was making amber of the world, Glittered with silver every cottage pane, The trees were rich, yet ominous with gloom.

The meadows broad From ferns and grapes and from the folded flowers Sent a nocturnal fragrance; harlot flies Flashed their small fires in air, or held their court In fairy groves of herds-gra.s.s.

He lives not who can refuse me; All my force saith, Come and use me: A gleam of sun, a summer rain, And all the zone is green again.

Seems, though the soft sheen all enchants, Cheers the rough crag and mournful dell, As if on such stern forms and haunts A wintry storm more fitly fell.

Put in, drive home the sightless wedges And split to flakes the crystal ledges.