Page:Poems, Emerson, 1847.djvu/101

Rh And leave thy peacock wit behind;

Enough for thee the primal mind

That flows in streams, that breathes in wind.

Leave all thy pedant lore apart;

God hid the whole world in thy heart.

Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns,

And gives them all who all renounce.

The rain comes when the wind calls;

The river knows the way to the sea;

Without a pilot it runs and falls,

Blessing all lands with its charity;

The sea tosses and foams to find

Its way up to the cloud and wind;

The shadow sits close to the flying ball;

The date fails not on the palm-tree tall;

And thou,—go burn thy wormy pages,—

Shalt outsee seers, and outwit sages.

Oft didst thou thread the woods in vain

To find what bird had piped the strain;—

Seek not, and the little eremite

Flies gayly forth and sings in sight.