Page:Poems of nature, Thoreau, 1895.djvu/83

Rh But yonder fast-abiding light

With its unchanging ray?

Lo, when the sun streams through the wood,

Upon a winter's morn,

Where'er his silent beams intrude

The murky night is gone.

How could the patient pine have known

The morning breeze would come,

Or humble flowers anticipate

The insect's noonday hum,—

Till the new light with morning cheer

From far streamed through the aisles,

And nimbly told the forest trees

For many stretching miles?