The Essential Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson

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by Ralph Waldo Emerson


  Tired of their starry periods,

  Hid their majesty in cloth

  Woven of tulips and painted moth.

  On carpets green the maskers march

  Below May’s well-appointed arch.

  Each star, each god, each grace amain,

  Every joy and virtue speed,

  Marching duly in her train,

  And fainting Nature at her need

  Is made whole again.

  ‘T was the vintage-day of field and wood,

  When magic wine for bards is brewed;

  Every tree and stem and chink

  Gushed with syrup to the brink.

  The air stole into the streets of towns,

  Refreshed the wise, reformed the clowns,

  And betrayed the fund of joy

  To the high-school and medalled boy:

  On from hall to chamber ran,

  From youth to maid, from boy to man,

  To babes, and to old eyes as well.

  ‘Once more,’ the old man cried, ‘ye clouds,

  Airy turrets purple-piled,

  Which once my infancy beguiled,

  Beguile me with the wonted spell.

  I know ye skilful to convoy

  The total freight of hope and joy

  Into rude and homely nooks,

  Shed mocking lustres on shelf of books,

  On farmer’s byre, on pasture rude,

  And stony pathway to the wood.

  I care not if the pomps you show

  Be what they soothfast appear,

  Or if yon realms in sunset glow

  Be bubbles of the atmosphere.

  And if it be to you allowed

  To fool me with a shining cloud,

  So only new griefs are consoled

  By new delights, as old by old,

  Frankly I will be your guest,

  Count your change and cheer the best.

  The world hath overmuch of pain—

  If Nature give me joy again,

  Of such deceit I’ll not complain.’

  Ah! well I mind the calendar,

  Faithful through a thousand years,

  Of the painted race of flowers,

  Exact to days, exact to hours,

  Counted on the spacious dial

  Yon broidered zodiac girds.

  I know the trusty almanac

  Of the punctual coming-back,

  On their due days, of the birds.

  I marked them yestermorn,

  A flock of finches darting

  Beneath the crystal arch,

  Piping, as they flew, a march—

  Belike the one they used in parting

  Last year from yon oak or larch;

  Dusky sparrows in a crowd,

  Diving, darting northward free,

  Suddenly betook them all,

  Every one to his hole in the wall,

  Or to his niche in the apple-tree.

  I greet with joy the choral trains

  Fresh from palms and Cuba’s canes.

  Best gems of Nature’s cabinet,

  With dews of tropic morning wet,

  Beloved of children, bards and Spring,

  O birds, your perfect virtues bring,

  Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight,

  Your manners for the heart’s delight,

  Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof,

  Here weave your chamber weather-proof,

  Forgive our harms, and condescend

  To man, as to a lubber friend,

  And, generous, teach his awkward race

  Courage and probity and grace!

  Poets praise that hidden wine

  Hid in milk we drew

  At the barrier of Time,

  When our life was new.

  We had eaten fairy fruit,

  We were quick from head to foot,

  All the forms we looked on shone

  As with diamond dews thereon.

  What cared we for costly joys,

  The Museum’s far-fetched toys?

  Gleam of sunshine on the wall

  Poured a deeper cheer than all

  The revels of the Carnival.

  We a pine-grove did prefer

  To a marble theatre,

  Gould with gods on mallows dine,

  Nor cared for spices or for wine.

  Wreaths of mist and rainbow spanned,

  Arch on arch, the grimmest land;

  Whistle of a woodland bird

  Made the pulses dance,

  Note of horn in valleys heard

  Filled the region with romance.

  None can tell how sweet,

  How virtuous, the morning air;

  Every accent vibrates well;

  Not alone the wood-bird’s call,

  Or shouting boys that chase their ball,

  Pass the height of minstrel skill,

  But the ploughman’s thoughtless cry,

  Lowing oxen, sheep that bleat,

  And the joiner’s hammer-beat,

  Softened are above their will,

  Take tones from groves they wandered through

  Or flutes which passing angels blew.

  All grating discords melt,

  No dissonant note is dealt,

  And though thy voice be shrill

  Like rasping file on steel,

  Such is the temper of the air,

  Echo waits with art and care,

  And will the faults of song repair.

  So by remote Superior Lake,

  And by resounding Mackinac,

  When northern storms the forest shake,

  And billows on the long beach break,

  The artful Air will separate

  Note by note all sounds that grate,

  Smothering in her ample breast

  All but godlike words,

  Reporting to the happy ear

  Only purified accords.

  Strangely wrought from barking waves,

  Soft music daunts the Indian braves—

  Convent-chanting which the child

  Hears pealing from the panther’s cave

  And the impenetrable wild.

  Soft on the South-wind sleeps the haze:

  So on thy broad mystic van

  Lie the opal-colored days,

  And waft the miracle to man.

  Soothsayer of the eldest gods,

  Repairer of what harms betide,

  Revealer of the inmost powers

  Prometheus proffered, Jove denied;

  Disclosing treasures more than true,

  Or in what far tomorrow due;

  Speaking by the tongues of flowers,

  By the ten-tongued laurel speaking;

  Singing by the oriole songs,

  Heart of bird the man’s heart seeking;

  Whispering hints of treasure hid

  Under Morn’s unlifted lid,

  Islands looming just beyond

  The dim horizon’s utmost bound;

  Who can, like thee, our rags upbraid,

  Or taunt us with our hope decayed?

  Or who like thee persuade,

  Making the splendor of the air,

  The morn and sparkling dew, a snare?

  Or who resent

  Thy genius, wiles and blandishment?

  There is no orator prevails

  To beckon or persuade

  Like thee the youth or maid:

  Thy birds, thy songs, thy brooks, thy gales,

  Thy blooms, thy kinds,

  Thy echoes in the wilderness,

  Soothe pain, and age, and love’s distress,

  Fire fainting will, and build heroic minds.

  For thou, O Spring! canst renovate

  All that high God did first create.

  Be still his arm and architect,

  Rebuild the ruin, mend defect;

  Chemist to vamp old worlds with new,

  Coat sea and sky with heavenlier blue,

  New tint the plumage of the birds,

&nb
sp; And slough decay from grazing herds,

  Sweep ruins from the scarped mountain,

  Cleanse the torrent at the fountain,

  Purge alpine air by towns defiled,

  Bring to fair mother fairer child,

  Not less renew the heart and brain,

  Scatter the sloth, wash out the stain,

  Make the aged eye sun-clear,

  To parting soul bring grandeur near.

  Under gentle types, my Spring

  Masks the might of Nature’s king,

  An energy that searches thorough

  From Chaos to the dawning morrow;

  Into all our human plight,

  The soul’s pilgrimage and flight;

  In city or in solitude,

  Step by step, lifts bad to good,

  Without halting, without rest,

  Lifting Better up to Best;

  Planting seeds of knowledge pure,

  Through earth to ripen, through heaven endure.

  THE ADIRONDACS

  A JOURNAL

  DEDICATED TO MY FELLOW TRAVELLERS IN AUGUST, 1858

  Wise and polite,—and if I drew

  Their several portraits, you would own

  Chaucer had no such worthy crew,

  Nor Boccace in Decameron.

  WE crossed Champlain to Keeseville with our friends,

  Thence, in strong country carts, rode up the forks

  Of the Ausable stream, intent to reach

  The Adirondac lakes. At Martin’s Beach

  We chose our boats; each man a boat and guide—

  Ten men, ten guides, our company all told.

  Next morn, we swept with oars the Saranac,

  With skies of benediction, to Round Lake,

  Where all the sacred mountains drew around us,

  Taháwus, Seaward, MacIntyre, Baldhead,

  And other Titans without muse or name.

  Pleased with these grand companions, we glide on,

  Instead of flowers, crowned with a wreath of hills.

  We made our distance wider, boat from boat,

  As each would hear the oracle alone.

  By the bright morn the gay flotilla slid

  Through files of flags that gleamed like bayonets,

  Through gold-moth-haunted beds of pickerel flower,

  Through scented banks of lilies white and gold,

  Where the deer feeds at night, the teal by day,

  On through the Upper Saranac, and up

  Père Raquette stream, to a small tortuous pass

  Winding through grassy shallows in and out,

  Two creeping miles of rushes, pads and sponge,

  To Follansbee Water and the Lake of Loons.

  Northward the length of Follansbee we rowed,

  Under low mountains, whose unbroken ridge

  Ponderous with beechen forest sloped the shore.

  A pause and council: then, where near the head

  Due east a bay makes inward to the land

  Between two rocky arms, we climb the bank,

  And in the twilight of the forest noon

  Wield the first axe these echoes ever heard.

  We cut young trees to make our poles and thwarts,

  Barked the white spruce to weatherfend the roof,

  Then struck a light and kindled the camp-fire.

  The wood was sovran with centennial trees—

  Oak, cedar, maple, poplar, beech and fir,

  Linden and spruce. In strict society

  Three conifers, white, pitch and Norway pine,

  Five-leaved, three-leaved and two-leaved, grew thereby,

  Our patron pine was fifteen feet in girth,

  The maple eight, beneath its shapely tower.

  ‘Welcome!’ the wood-god murmured through the leaves,

  ‘Welcome, though late, unknowing, yet known to me.’

  Evening drew on; stars peeped through maple-boughs,

  Which o’erhung, like a cloud, our camping fire.

  Decayed millennial trunks, like moonlight flecks,

  Lit with phosphoric crumbs the forest floor.

  Ten scholars, wonted to lie warm and soft

  In well-hung chambers daintily bestowed,

  Lie here on hemlock-boughs, like Sacs and Sioux,

  And greet unanimous the joyful change.

  So fast will Nature acclimate her sons,

  Though late returning to her pristine ways.

  Off soundings, seamen do not suffer cold;

  And, in the forest, delicate clerks, unbrowned,

  Sleep on the fragrant brush, as on down-beds.

  Up with the dawn, they fancied the light air

  That circled freshly in their forest dress

  Made them to boys again. Happier that they

  Slipped off their pack of duties, leagues behind,

  At the first mounting of the giant stairs.

  No placard on these rocks warned to the polls,

  No door-bell heralded a visitor,

  No courier waits, no letter came or went,

  Nothing was ploughed, or reaped, or bought, or sold;

  The frost might glitter, it would blight no crop,

  The falling rain will spoil no holiday.

  We were made freemen of the forest laws,

  All dressed, like Nature, fit for her own ends,

  Adirondac lakes,

  Essaying nothing she cannot perform.

  In Adirondac lakes,

  At morn or noon, the guide rows bareheaded:

  Shoes, flannel shirt, and kersey trousers make

  His brief toilette: at night, or in the rain,

  He dons a surcoat which he doffs at morn:

  A paddle in the right hand, or an oar,

  And in the left, a gun, his needful arms.

  By turns we praised the stature of our guides,

  Their rival strength and suppleness, their skill

  To row, to swim, to shoot, to build a camp,

  To climb a lofty stem, clean without boughs

  Full fifty feet, and bring the eaglet down:

  Temper to face wolf, bear, or catamount,

  And wit to trap or take him in his lair.

  Sound, ruddy men, frolic and innocent,

  In winter, lumberers; in summer, guides;

  Their sinewy arms pull at the oar untired

  Three times ten thousand strokes, from morn to eve.

  Look to yourselves, ye polished gentlemen!

  No city airs or arts pass current here.

  Your rank is all reversed; let men of cloth

  Bow to the stalwart churls in overalls:

  They are the doctors of the wilderness,

  And we the low-prized laymen.

  In sooth, red flannel is a saucy test

  Which few can put on with impunity.

  What make you, master, fumbling at the oar?

  Will you catch crabs? Truth tries pretension here.

  The sallow knows the basket-maker’s thumb;

  The oar, the guide’s. Dare you accept the tasks

  He shall impose, to find a spring, trap foxes,

  Tell the sun’s time, determine the true north,

  Or stumbling on through vast self-similar woods

  To thread by night the nearest way to camp?

  Ask you, how went the hours?

  All day we swept the lake, searched every cove,

  North from Camp Maple, south to Osprey Bay,

  Watching when the loud dogs should drive in deer,

  Or whipping its rough surface for a trout;

  Or, bathers, diving from the rock at noon;

  Challenging Echo by our guns and cries;

  Or listening to the laughter of the loon;

  Or, in the evening twilight’s latest red,

  Beholding the procession of the pines;

  Or, later yet, beneath a lighted jack,

  In the boat’s bows, a silent night-hunter

  Stealing with paddle to the feeding-grounds

>   Of the red deer, to aim at a square mist.

  Hark to that muffled roar! a tree in the woods

  Is fallen: but hush! it has not scared the buck

  Who stands astonished at the meteor light,

  Then turns to bound away—is it too late?

  Our heroes tried their rifles at a mark,

  Six rods, sixteen, twenty, or forty-five;

  Sometimes their wits at sally and retort,

  With laughter sudden as the crack of rifle; Or parties scaled the near acclivities

  Competing seekers of a rumored lake,

  Whose unauthenticated waves we named

  Lake Probability—our carbuncle,

  Long sought, not found.

  Two Doctors in the camp

  Dissected the slain deer, weighed the trout’s brain,

  Captured the lizard, salamander, shrew,

  Crab, mice, snail, dragon-fly, minnow and moth;

  Insatiate skill in water or in air

  Waved the scoop-net, and nothing came amiss;

  The while, one leaden pot of alcohol

  Gave an impartial tomb to all the kinds.

  Not less the ambitious botanist sought plants,

  Orchis and gentian, fern and long whip-scirpus,

  Rosy polygonum, lake-margin’s pride,

  Hypnum and hydnum, mushroom, sponge and moss,

  Or harebell nodding in the gorge of falls.

  Above, the eagle flew, the osprey screamed,

  The raven croaked, owls hooted, the woodpecker

  Loud hammered, and the heron rose in the swamp.

  As water poured through hollows of the hills

  To feed this wealth of lakes and rivulets,

  So Nature shed all beauty lavishly

  From her redundant horn.

  Lords of this realm,

  Bounded by dawn and sunset, and the day

  Rounded by hours where each outdid the last

  In miracles of pomp, we must be proud,

  As if associates of the sylvan gods.

  We seemed the dwellers of the zodiac,

  So pure the Alpine element we breathed,

  So light, so lofty pictures came and went.

  We trode on air, contemned the distant town,

  Its timorous ways, big trifles, and we planned

  That we should build, hard-by, a spacious lodge

  And how we should come hither with our sons,

  Hereafter—willing they, and more adroit.

  Hard fare, hard bed and comic misery—

  The midge, the blue-fly and the mosquito Painted our necks, hands, ankles, with red bands:

  But, on the second day, we heed them not,

  Nay, we saluted them Auxiliaries,

  Whom earlier we had chid with spiteful names.

  For who defends our leafy tabernacle

  From bold intrusion of the travelling crowd—

 

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