Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/408

372 How drearily in College hall

The Doctor stretched the hours,

But in each pause we heard the call

Of robins out of doors.

The air is wise, the wind thinks well,

And all through which it blows,

If plants or brain, if egg or shell,

Or bird or biped knows;

And oft at home 'mid tasks I heed,

I heed how wears the day;

We must not halt while fiercely speed

The spans of life away.

What boots it here of Thebes or Rome

Or lands of Eastern day?

In forests I am still at home

And there I cannot stray.

THE ENCHANTER

the deep heart of man a poet dwells

Who all the day of life his summer story tells;

Scatters on every eye dust of his spells,

Scent, form and color; to the flowers and shells