Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/428

392 And mark the rising of the early stars.

There will I bring my books,—my household gods,

The reliquaries of my dead saint, and dwell

In the sweet odor of her memory.

Then in the uncouth solitude unlock

My stock of art, plant dials in the grass,

Hang in the air a bright thermometer

And aim a telescope at the inviolate sun.

, 1831.