Page:Poems, Emerson, 1847.djvu/23

Rh "The fiend that man harries

Is love of the Best;

Yawns the pit of the Dragon,

Lit by rays from the Blest.

The Lethe of nature

Can't trance him again,

Whose soul sees the perfect,

Which his eyes seek in vain.

"Profounder, profounder,

Man's spirit must dive;

To his aye-rolling orbit

No goal will arrive;

The heavens that now draw him

With sweetness untold,

Once found,—for new heavens

He spurneth the old.

"Pride ruined the angels,

Their shame them restores;

And the joy that is sweetest

Lurks in stings of remorse.