Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/180

144 Far-reaching concords of astronomy

Felt in the plants and in the punctual birds;

Better, the linked purpose of the whole,

And, chiefest prize, found I true liberty

In the glad home plain-dealing Nature gave.

The polite found me impolite; the great

Would mortify me, but in vain; for still

I am a willow of the wilderness,

Loving the wind that bent me. All my hurts

My garden spade can heal. A woodland walk,

A quest of river-grapes, a mocking thrush,

A wild-rose, or rock-loving columbine,

Salve my worst wounds.

For thus the wood-gods murmured in my ear:

Dost love our manners? Canst thou silent lie?

Canst thou, thy pride forgot, like Nature pass

Into the winter night's extinguished mood?

Canst thou shine now, then darkle,

And being latent, feel thyself no less?

As, when the all-worshipped moon attracts the eye,

The river, hill, stems, foliage are obscure,

Yet envies none, none are unenviable.'