Page:Poems, Emerson, 1847.djvu/186

174 O, what a load

Of care and toil,

By lying use bestowed,

From his shoulders falls who sees

The true astronomy,

The period of peace.

Counsel which the ages kept

Shall the well-born soul accept.

As the overhanging trees

Fill the lake with images,—

As garment draws the garment's hem,

Men their fortunes bring with them.

By right or wrong,

Lands and goods go to the strong.

Property will brutely draw

Still to the proprietor;

Silver to silver creep and wind,

And kind to kind.

Nor less the eternal poles

Of tendency distribute souls.