The Poet's Delay Poem by Henry David Thoreau

The Poet's Delay

Rating: 4.3


IN vain I see the morning rise,
In vain observe the western blaze,
Who idly look to other skies,
Expecting life by other ways.

Amidst such boundless wealth without,
I only still am poor within,
The birds have sung their summer out,
But still my spring does not begin.

Shall I then wait the autumn wind,
Compelled to seek a milder day,
And leave no curious nest behind,
No woods still echoing to my lay?

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Henry David Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau

Concord, Massachusetts
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