Henry David Thoreau

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

Henry David Thoreau Poems

1. Tall Ambrosia 4/26/2012
2. To A Marsh Hawk In Spring 4/26/2012
3. Within The Circuit Of This Plodding Life 4/12/2010
4. Sympathy 4/26/2012
5. Away! Away! Away! Away! 4/26/2012
6. The Fisher’s Boy 4/12/2010
7. Though All The Fates 4/12/2010
8. The Poet's Delay 4/12/2010
9. What's The Railroad To Me? 1/3/2003
10. Great God, I Ask For No Meaner Pelf 4/26/2012
11. Salmon Brook 4/12/2010
12. I Was Made Erect And Lone 4/26/2012
13. They Who Prepare My Evening Meal Below 1/3/2003
14. Light-Winged Smoke 4/12/2010
15. Like A Soul 4/12/2010
16. The Inward Morning 1/3/2003
17. Men Say They Know Many Things 4/12/2010
18. Song Of Nature 4/12/2010
19. Sic Vita 1/3/2003
20. Let Such Pure Hate Still Underprop 1/3/2003
21. All Things Are Current Found 4/12/2010
22. On Fields O'Er Which The Reaper's Hand Has Pass'D 1/3/2003
23. I Am A Parcel Of Vain Strivings Tied 1/3/2003
24. Low-Anchored Cloud 1/3/2003
25. Prayer 1/3/2003
26. Pray To What Earth Does This Sweet Cold Belong 1/3/2003
27. Smoke 1/3/2003
28. Nature 4/12/2010
29. Rumors From An Aeolian Harp 1/3/2003
30. Epitaph On The World 1/3/2003
31. I Am The Autumnal Sun 1/3/2003
32. My Life Has Been The Poem 4/12/2010
33. I Knew A Man By Sight 1/3/2003
34. Winter Memories 1/3/2003
35. Mist 1/3/2003
36. The Summer Rain 1/3/2003
37. Inspiration 1/3/2003
38. Conscience 1/3/2003
39. Indeed, Indeed I Cannot Tell 1/3/2003
40. The Moon 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Henry David Thoreau


I think awhile of Love, and while I think,
Love is to me a world,
Sole meat and sweetest drink,
And close connecting link
Tween heaven and earth.

I only know it is, not how or why,
My greatest happiness;
However hard I try,
Not if I were to die,
Can I explain.

I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I'm dumb.

For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
But only thinks and does;
Though surely out 'twill leak
Without the help of...

Read the full of Friendship

Epitaph On The World

Here lies the body of this world,
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled.
This golden youth long since was past,
Its silver manhood went as fast,
An iron age drew on at last;
'Tis vain its character to tell,
The several fates which it befell,
What year it died, when 'twill arise,
We only know that here it lies.

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