Page:Poems, Emerson, 1847.djvu/47

Rh For gods delight in gods,

And thrust the weak aside;

To him who scorns their charities,

Their arms fly open wide.

When the old world is sterile,

And the ages are effete,

He will from wrecks and sediment

The fairer world complete.

He forbids to despair;

His cheeks mantle with mirth;

And the unimagined good of men

Is yeaning at the birth.

Spring still makes spring in the mind,

When sixty years are told;

Love wakes anew this throbbing heart,

And we are never old.

Over the winter glaciers,

I see the summer glow,

And, through the wild-piled snowdrift,

The warm rosebuds below.