Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/86

50 Whom the rain and the wind purgeth,

Whom the dawn and the day-star urgeth,

In whose cheek the rose-leaf blusheth,

In whose feet the lion rusheth,

Iron arms, and iron mould,

That know not fear, fatigue, or cold.

I give my rafters to his boat,

My billets to his boiler's throat,

And I will swim the ancient sea

To float my child to victory,

And grant to dwellers with the pine

Dominion o'er the palm and vine.

Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend,

Unnerves his strength, invites his end.

Cut a bough from my parent stem,

And dip it in thy porcelain vase;

A little while each russet gem

Will swell and rise with wonted grace;

But when it seeks enlarged supplies,

The orphan of the forest dies.

Whoso walks in solitude

And inhabiteth the wood,

Choosing light, wave, rock and bird,

Before the money-loving herd,

Into that forester shall pass,

From these companions, power and grace.

Clean shall he be, without, within,

From the old adhering sin,

All ill dissolving in the light