Henry David Thoreau

(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862 / Concord, Massachusetts)

Poems of Henry David Thoreau

41. Within the Circuit of This Plodding Life 4/12/2010

The Summer Rain

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.

Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too,
Our Shakespeare's life were rich to live again,
What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true,
Nor Shakespeare's books, unless his books were men.

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