Ralph Waldo Emerson, comp. (1803–1882). Parnassus: An Anthology of Poetry. 1880.
SympathyHenry David Thoreau (18171862)
L
Whose features all were cast in Virtue’s mould,
As one she had designed for Beauty’s toy,
But after manned him for her own stronghold.
That you might see no lack of strength within;
For walls and ports do only serve alway
For a pretence to feebleness and sin.
With toil and strife who stormed the House of Fame,
In other sense this youth was glorious,
Himself a kingdom whereso’er he came.
When all was income of its own accord;
For where he went none other was to see,
But all were parcel of their noble lord.
That stilly shows fresh landscapes to our eyes,
And revolutions works without a murmur,
Or rustling of a leaf beneath the skies.
I quite forgot my homage to confess;
Yet now am forced to know, though hard it is,
I might have loved him, had I loved him less.
A stern respect withheld us further yet,
So that we seemed beyond each other’s reach,
And less acquainted than when first we met.
So could we not the simplest bargain drive;
And what avails it, now that we are wise,
If absence doth this doubleness contrive?
But I must tread my single way alone,
In sad remembrance that we once did meet,
And know that bliss irrevocably gone.
For elegy has other subject none;
Each strain of music in my ears shall ring
Knell of departure from that other one.
With fitting strain resound, ye woods and fields;
Sorrow is dearer in such case to me
Than all the joys other occasion yields.
Distance, forsooth, from my weak grasp has reft
The empty husk, and clutched the useless tare,
But in my hands the wheat and kernel left.
Though it be scented in the morning air,
Still shall we be truest acquaintances,
Nor mortals know a sympathy more rare.