I’m Thankful That My Life Doth Not Deceive
by Henry David Thoreau
I’m thankful that
my life doth not deceive
Itself with a low
loftiness, half height,
And think it
soars when still it dip its way
Beneath the
clouds on noiseless pinion
Like the crow or
owl, but it doth know
The full extent
of all its trivialness,
Compared with the
splendid heights above.
See how it waits
to watch the mail come in
While ’hind its
back the sun goes out perchance.
And yet their
lumbering cart brings me no word,
Not one scrawled
leaf such as my neighbors get
To cheer them
with the slight events forsooth,
Faint ups and
downs of their far distant friends—
And now ’tis
passed. What next? See the long train
Of teams wreathed
in dust, their atmosphere;
Shall I attend
until the last is passed?
Else why these
ears that hear the leader’s bells
Or eyes that link
me in procession?
But hark! the
drowsy day has done its task,
Far in yon hazy
field where stands a barn,
Unanxious hens
improve the sultry hour
And with
contented voice now brag their deed—
A new laid
egg—Now let the day decline—
They’ll lay
another by tomorrow’s sun.
 |
| image courtesy of BGEA |
