Henry David Thoreau
Song Of Nature
Mine are the night and morning,
The pits of air, the gull of space,
The sportive sun, the gibbous moon,
The innumerable days.
I hide in the solar glory,
I am dumb in the pealing song,
I rest on the pitch of the torrent,
In slumber I am strong.
No numbers have counted my tallies,
No tribes my house can fill,
I sit by the shining Fount of Life
And pour the deluge still;
And ever by delicate powers
Gathering along the centuries
From race on race the rarest flowers,
My wreath shall nothing miss.
And many a thousand summers
My gardens ripened well,
And light from meliorating stars
With firmer glory fell.
I wrote the past in characters
Of rock and fire the scroll,
The building in the coral sea,
The planting of the coal.
And thefts from satellites and rings
And broken stars I drew,
And out of spent and aged things
I formed the world anew;
What time the gods kept carnival,
Tricked out in star and flower,
And in cramp elf and saurian forms
They swathed their too much power.
Time and Thought were my surveyors,
They laid their courses well,
They boiled the sea, and piled the layers
Of granite, marl and shell.
But he, the man-child glorious, -
Where tarries he the while?
The rainbow shines his harbinger,
The sunset gleams his smile.
My boreal lights leap upward,
Forthright my planets roll,
And still the man-child is not born,
The summit of the whole.
Must time and tide forever run?
Will never my winds go sleep in the west?
Will never my wheels which whirl the sun
And satellites have rest?
Too much of donning and doffing,
Too slow the rainbow fades,
I weary of my robe of snow,
My leaves and my cascades;
I tire of globes and races,
Too long the game is played;
What without him is summer's pomp,
Or winter's frozen shade?
I travail in pain for him,
My creatures travail and wait;
His couriers come by squadrons,
He comes not to the gate.
Twice I have moulded an image,
And thrice outstretched my hand,
Made one of day and one of night
And one of the salt sea-sand.
One in a Judaean manger,
And one by Avon stream,
One over against the mouths of Nile,
And one in the Academe.
I moulded kings and saviors,
And bards o'er kings to rule; -
But fell the starry influence short,
The cup was never full.
Yet whirl the glowing wheels once more,
And mix the bowl again;
Seethe, Fate! the ancient elements,
Heat, cold, wet, dry, and peace, and pain.
Let war and trade and creeds and song
Blend, ripen race on race,
The sunburnt world a man shall breed
Of all the zones and countless days.
No ray is dimmed, no atom worn,
My oldest force is good as new,
And the fresh rose on yonder thorn
Gives back the bending heavens in dew.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Song Of Nature by Henry David Thoreau )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(15 April 1958)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
- Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
- A Visit from St. Nicholas, Clement Clarke Moore
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Talking Turkeys!, Benjamin Zephaniah
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- "Why do I love" You, Sir?, Emily Dickinson
- Mistletoe, Walter de la Mare
- A Thing of Beauty (Endymion), John Keats
- The Three Kings, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poem of the Day
- The Threat of the Weaker Sex, David Lewis Paget
- Sonnet 504, Luis Estable
- Tale of Nail - Lincoln Park Zoo, Ima Ryma
- Sonnet 502, Luis Estable
- make MANDELA's feat never fail 'ME', sEaN nOrTh
- God given treasure, Arcely Talicuad
- Christmas Eve, Tony md chamasense
- Peshawar, Sari Mavi
- Untouched Flower, Edward Kofi Louis
- Let's Share, Peter S. Quinn