Friday, July 13, 2012

Happy Birthday Henry David Thoreau !

Henry David Thoreau
Yesterday was the birthday of an American author, poet, philosopher, abolitionist, naturalist, tax resister, development critic, surveyor, historian, and leading transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau. Thoreau (July 12, 1817 – May 6, 1862) is best known for his book Walden, a reflection upon simple living in natural surroundings, and his essay Civil Disobedience, an argument for individual resistance to civil government in moral opposition to an unjust state. His books, articles, essays, journals, and poetry total over 20 volumes. His literary style interweaves close natural observation, personal experience, pointed rhetoric, symbolic meanings, and historical lore, while displaying a poetic sensibility, philosophical austerity, and "Yankee" love of practical detail. Presenting some poems : Being Poet

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. 

I was Made Erect and Lone

I was made erect and lone,
And within me is the bone;
Still my vision will be clear,
Still my life will not be drear,
To the center all is near.
Where I sit there is my throne.
If age choose to sit apart,
If age choose, give me the start,
Take the sap and leave the heart. 

Light-Winged Smoke

LIGHT-WINGED Smoke, Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
Lark without song, and the messenger of dawn,
Circling above the hamlets as thy nest;
Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form
Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By night star-veiling, and by day
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou my incense upward from this hearth,
And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame. 

Great God, I Ask for no Meaner Pelf

Great God, I ask for no meaner pelf
Than that I may not disappoint myself,
That in my action I may soar as high
As I can now discern with this clear eye.
And next in value, which thy kindness lends, 
That I may greatly disappoint my friends,
Howe'er they think or hope that it may be,
They may not dream how thou'st distinguished me.
That my weak hand may equal my firm faith
And my life practice what my tongue saith
That my low conduct may not show
Nor my relenting lines
That I thy purpose did not know
Or overrated thy designs. 

Indeed, Indeed I Cannot Tell

Indeed indeed, I cannot tell, 
Though I ponder on it well, 
Which were easier to state, 
All my love or all my hate. 
Surely, surely, thou wilt trust me 
When I say thou dost disgust me. 
O, I hate thee with a hate 
That would fain annihilate; 
Yet sometimes against my will, 
My dear friend, I love thee still. 
It were treason to our love, 
And a sin to God above, 
One iota to abate 
Of a pure impartial hate. 
All Things Are Current Found
ALL things are current found
On earthly ground,
Spirits and elements
Have their descents.
Night and day, year on year,
High and low, far and near,
These are our own aspects,
These are our own regrets.
Ye gods of the shore,
Who abide evermore,
I see you far headland,
Stretching on either hand;
I hear the sweet evening sounds
From your undecaying grounds;
Cheat me no more with time,
Take me to your clime. 

I am the Autumnal Sun

Sometimes a mortal feels in himself Nature 
-- not his Father but his Mother stirs 
within him, and he becomes immortal with her
immortality. From time to time she claims 
kindredship with us, and some globule 
from her veins steals up into our own.
I am the autumnal sun,
With autumn gales my race is run;
When will the hazel put forth its flowers,
Or the grape ripen under my bowers?
When will the harvest or the hunter's moon
Turn my midnight into mid-noon?
I am all sere and yellow,
And to my core mellow.
The mast is dropping within my woods,
The winter is lurking within my moods,
And the rustling of the withered leaf
Is the constant music of my grief...