Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)

GIVE all to love;

Obey thy heart;

Friends, kindred, days,

Estate, good fame,

Plans, credit, and the Muse—

Nothing refuse.

’Tis a brave master;

Let it have scope:

Follow it utterly,

Hope beyond hope:

High and more high

It dives into noon,

With wing unspent,

Untold intent;

But it is a god,

Knows its own path,

And the outlets of the sky.

It was never for the mean;

It requireth courage stout,

Souls above doubt,

Valour unbending:

Such ’twill reward;—

They shall return

More than they were,

And ever ascending.

Leave all for love;

Yet, hear me, yet,

One word more thy heart behoved,

One pulse more of firm endeavour—

Keep thee to-day,

To-morrow, for ever,

Free as an Arab

Of thy beloved.

Cling with life to the maid;

But when the surprise,

First vague shadow of surmise,

Flits across her bosom young,

Of a joy apart from thee,

Free be she, fancy-free;

Nor thou detain her vesture’s hem,

Nor the palest rose she flung

From her summer diadem.

Though thou loved her as thyself,

As a self of purer clay;

Though her parting dims the day,

Stealing grace from all alive;

Heartily know,

When half-gods go

The gods arrive.

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