Author: Henry David Thoreau

Time wears her not; she doth his chariot guide; Mortality below her orb is placed. Raleigh The full-orbed moon with […]

There is a vale which none hath seen, Where foot of man has never been, Such as here lives with […]

On fields o’er which the reaper’s hand has pass’d Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun, My thoughts like […]

Indeed, indeed, I cannot tell, Though I ponder on it well, Which were easier to state, All my love or […]

What’s the railroad to me? I never go to see Where it ends. It fills a few hollows, And makes […]

They who prepare my evening meal below Carelessly hit the kettle as they go With tongs or shovel, And ringing […]

Conscience is instinct bred in the house, Feeling and Thinking propagate the sin By an unnatural breeding in and in. […]

Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird, Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight, Lark without song, and messenger of dawn, Circling above […]

I knew a man by sight, A blameless wight, Who, for a year or more, Had daily passed my door, […]

Packed in my mind lie all the clothes Which outward nature wears, And in its fashion’s hourly change It all […]