Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/355

Rh SPIRITS

Brother, we are no phantom band;

Brother, accept this fatal hand.

Aches thine unbelieving heart

With the fear that we must part?

See, all we are rooted here

By one thought to one same sphere;

From thyself thou canst not flee,—

From thyself no more can we.

POET

Suns and stars their courses keep,

But not angels of the deep:

Day and night their turn observe,

But the day of day may swerve.

Is there warrant that the waves

Of thought in their mysterious caves

Will heap in me their highest tide,

In me therewith beatified?

Unsure the ebb and flood of thought,

The moon comes back,—the Spirit not.

SPIRITS

Brother, sweeter is the Law

Than all the grace Love ever saw;

We are its suppliants. By it, we

Draw the breath of Eternity;