DIVINA COMMEDIA

Oft have I seen at some cathedral door

A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat,
Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet
Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor

Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er:

Far off the noises of the world retreat;
The loud vociferations of the street
Become an undistinguishable roar.

So, as I enter here from day to day,

And leave my burden at this minster gate,
Kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed to pray,
The tumult of the time disconsolate

To inarticulate murmurs dies away,
While the eternal ages watch and wait.

5

ΤΟ

1864.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON

GOOD-BYE

Good-bye, proud world! I 'm going home:
Thou art not my friend, and I 'm not thine.
Long through thy weary crowds I roam;

A river-ark on the ocean brine,

Long I've been tossed like the driven foam;

But now, proud world, I 'm going home.

Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face,

To Grandeur, with his wise grimace,

To upstart Wealth's averted eye,

To supple Office low and high,

To crowded halls, to court and street,

To frozen hearts and hasting feet,
To those who go and those who come;
Good-bye, proud world, I 'm going home.

I am going to my own hearth-stone
Bosomed in yon green hills, alone-
A secret nook in a pleasant land,
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;

1864.

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ΙΟ

15

Where arches green, the livelong day,
Echo the blackbird's roundelay,

And vulgar feet have never trod

A spot that is sacred to thought and God.
O, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome;
And when I am stretched beneath the pines
Where the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,
At the sophist schools and the learned clan,
For what are they all, in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet?

1823.

20

25

30

1839.

THE RHODORA

ON BEING ASKED WHENCE IS THE FLOWER

In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,
I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,
Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,
To please the desert and the sluggish brook.
The purple petals, fallen in the pool,

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Made the black water with their beauty gay;

Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool,
And court the flower that cheapens his array.

Rhodora, if the sages ask thee why

This charm is wasted on the earth and sky,

ΙΟ

Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing,

Then Beauty is its own excuse for being.

Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose,

I never thought to ask, I never knew;

But in my simple ignorance suppose

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The self-same Power that brought me there, brought you.

1834.

1839.

EACH AND ALL

Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown

Of thee from the hill-top looking down;

The heifer that lows in the upland farm,

Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;

For I did not bring home the river and sky-
He sang to my ear, they sang to my eye.

The delicate shells lay on the shore;

The bubbles of the latest wave
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,
And the bellowing of the savage sea
Greeted their safe escape to me:

I wiped away the weeds and foam,

I fetched my sea-born treasures home;

But the poor, unsightly, noisome things

Had left their beauty on the shore

With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.

The lover watched his graceful maid

As 'mid the virgin train she strayed,

Nor knew her beauty's best attire

Was woven still by the snow-white quire:

At last she came to his hermitage,

Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage

The gay enchantment was undone,

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A gentle wife but fairy none.

Then I said, "I covet truth:

Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat;

I leave it behind with the games of youth."

SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE CONCORD MONUMENT

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.

1837.

The foe long since in silence slept,

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps,

And Time the ruined bridge has swept

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,

We set to-day a votive stone,

That memory may their deed redeem
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those herocs dare
To die, or leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and Thee.

THE HUMBLE-BEE

Burly, dozing humble-bee,

Where thou art is clime for me:

Let them sail for Porto Rique,

Far-off heats through seas to seek;
I will follow thee alone,

Thou animated torrid zone!
Zig-zag steerer, desert cheerer,
Let me chase thy waving lines;
Keep me nearer, me thy hearer,
Singing over shrubs and vines.

Insect lover of the sun,

Joy of thy dominion!

Sailor of the atmosphere,

Swimmer through the waves of air,

Voyager of light and noon,

Epicurean of June,

Wait I prithee, till I come

5

ΙΟ

15

1837.

5

ΙΟ

15.