Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/124

88 Which in turn thy glory warms!

The frailest leaf, the mossy bark,

The acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc,

The swinging spider's silver line,

The ruby of the drop of wine,

The shining pebble of the pond,

Thou inscribest with a bond,

In thy momentary play,

Would bankrupt nature to repay.

Ah, what avails it

To hide or to shun

Whom the Infinite One

Hath granted his throne?

The heaven high over

Is the deep's lover;

The sun and sea,

Informed by thee,

Before me run

And draw me on,

Yet fly me still,

As Fate refuses

To me the heart Fate for me chooses.

Is it that my opulent soul

Was mingled from the generous whole;

Sea-valleys and the deep of skies

Furnished several supplies;

And the sands whereof I 'm made

Draw me to them, self-betrayed?