Henry David Thoreau (12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862 / Concord, Massachusetts)
Though All The Fates
THOUGH all the fates should prove unkind,
Leave not your native land behind.
The ship, becalmed, at length stands still;
The steed must rest beneath the hill;
But swiftly still our fortunes pace
To find us out in every place.
The vessel, though her masts be firm,
Beneath her copper bears a worm;
Around the cape, across the line,
Till fields of ice her course confine;
It matters not how smooth the breeze,
How shallow or how deep the seas,
Whether she bears Manilla twine,
Or in her hold Madeira wine,
Or China teas, or Spanish hides,
In port or quarantine she rides;
Far from New England's blustering shore,
New England's worm her hulk shall bore,
And sink her in the Indian seas,
Twine, wine, and hides, and China teas.
Henry David Thoreau's Other Poems
- All Things Are Current Found
- Away! Away! Away! Away!
- Epitaph On The World
- Great God, I Ask for no Meaner Pelf
- I am a Parcel of Vain Strivings Tied
- I am the Autumnal Sun
- I Knew A Man By Sight
- I was Made Erect and Lone
- Indeed, Indeed I Cannot Tell
- Let such pure hate still underprop
- Light-Winged Smoke
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