Page:Poems of nature, Thoreau, 1895.djvu/122

98 So cool your brows and freshly blue,

As Time had nought for ye to do;

For ye lie at your length,

An unappropriated strength,

Unhewn primeval timber

For knees so stiff, for masts so limber,

The stock of which new earths are made,

One day to be our western trade,

Fit for the stanchions of a world

Which through the seas of space is hurled.

While we enjoy a lingering ray,

Ye still o'ertop the western day,

Reposing yonder on God's croft,

Like solid stacks of hay.

So bold a line as ne'er was writ

On any page by human wit;