Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/54

18 And what if Trade sow cities

Like shells along the shore,

And thatch with towns the prairie broad,

With railways ironed o'er?—

They are but sailing foam-bells

Along Thought's causing stream,

And take their shape and sun-color

From him that sends the dream.

For Destiny never swerves

To yields to men the helm;

He shoots his thought, by hidden nerves,

Throughout the solid realm.

The patient Dæmon sits,

With roses and a shroud;

He has his way, and deals his gifts,—

But ours is not allowed.

He is no churl nor trifler,

And his viceroy is none,—

Love-without-weakness,—

Of Genius sire and son.

And his will is not thwarted;

The seeds of land and sea

Are the atoms of his body bright,

And his behest obey.

He serveth the servant,

The brave he loves amain;