Page:Thoreau's flute, a poem.djvu/11

 "To him no vain regrets belong,

Whose soul, that finer instrument,

Gave to the world no poor lament,

But wood-notes ever sweet and strong.

O lonely friend! he still will be

A potent presence, though unseen,—

Steadfast, sagacious, and serene:

Seek not for him,—he is with thee."