Page:May-day and other pieces, Emerson, 1867.djvu/79

 NEMESIS.

LREADY blushes in thy cheek

The bosom-thought which thou must speak;

The bird, how far it haply roam

By cloud or isle, is flying home;

The maiden fears, and fearing runs

Into the charmed snare she shuns;

And every man, in love or pride,

Of his fate is never wide.

Will a woman's fan the ocean smooth?

Or prayers the stony Parcæ sooth,

Or coax the thunder from its mark?

Or tapers light the chaos dark?