Page:May-day and other pieces, Emerson, 1867.djvu/103

Rh Yet count me not of spirit mean,

Or mine a mean demand,

For 't is the concentration

And worth of all the land,

The sister of the sea,

The daughter of the strand,

Composed of air and light,

And of the swart earth-might.

So little to thy poet's prayer

Thy large bounty well can spare.

And yet I think, if she were gone,

The world were better left alone.