Page:Poems, Emerson, 1847.djvu/258

246 The mysteries of Nature's heart;

And though no Muse can these impart,

Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast,

And all is clear from east to west.

'I came to thee as to a friend;

Dearest, to thee I did not send

Tutors, but a joyful eye,

Innocence that matched the sky,

Lovely locks, a form of wonder,

Laughter rich as woodland thunder,

That thou might'st entertain apart

The richest flowering of all art:

And, as the great all-loving Day

Through smallest chambers takes its way,

That thou might'st break thy daily bread

With prophet, Savior, and head;

That thou might'st cherish for thine own

The riches of sweet Mary's Son,

Boy-Rabbi, Israel's paragon.

And thoughtest thou such guest

Would in thy hall take up his rest?