And the poor grass shall plot and plan Quickened so, will I unlock I thank the joyful juice Of the ancient being blow, And seeming-solid walls of use Open and flow. Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine; And the grape requite the lote! Refresh the faded tints, Recut the aged prints, And write my old adventures with the pen Which on the first day drew, Upon the tablets blue, The dancing Pleiads and eternal men. Ralph Waldo Emerson [1803-1882] THE PROBLEM I LIKE a church; I like a cowl; I love a prophet of the soul; And on my heart monastic aisles Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles: Would I that cowlèd churchman be. The Problem should the vest on him allure, I could not on me endure? rom a vain or shallow thought rom the heart of nature rolled tanies of nations came, the volcano's tongue of flame, om the burning core below,― anticles of love and woe: hand that rounded Peter's dome, groined the aisles of Christian Rome, ght in a sad sincerity; elf from God he could not free; uilded better than he knew; Conscious stone to beauty grew. 2827 'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest aves, and feathers from her breast? ow the fish outbuilt her shell, ing with morn each annual cell? ow the sacred pine-tree adds er old leaves new myriads? and so grew these holy piles, st love and terror laid the tiles. proudly wears the Parthenon, e best gem upon her zone, Morning opes with haste her lids, aze upon the Pyramids; England's abbeys bends the sky, its friends, with kindred eye; out of Thought's interior sphere, e wonders rose to upper air; Nature gladly gave them place, oted them into her race, granted them an equal date ■ Andes and with Ararat. These temples grew as grows the grass; To the vast soul that o'er him planned; Girds with one flame the countless host, Ralph Waldo Emerson [1803-1882] EVENING HYMN SLOWLY by God's hand unfurled, Mighty Maker! Here am I,- The Higher Good 'eil the day's distracting sights, From the darkened sky come forth Living worlds to view be brought, Holy truth, eternal right, Let them break upon my sight, Thou art there. Oh, let me know, May my soul attuned be To that perfect harmony, Which, beyond the power of sound, Fills the universe around. 2829 William Henry Furness [1802-1896] THE HIGHER GOOD I will not ask for wealth or fame, once they would have joyed my carnal sense: er not to bear a hated name, ; all wealth, myself my sole defense. me, Lord, eyes to behold the truth; sense that knows the eternal right; with pity filled, and gentlest ruth; faith that makes all darkness light: Give me the power to labor for mankind; A conscience to the base; and to the weak Let me be hands and feet; and to the foolish, mind; And lead still further on such as thy kingdom seek. Theodore Parker [1810–1860] THE IDLER I IDLE stand that I may find employ, Enough for me, still day by day to wait Till Thou who form'st me find'st me too a task, A cripple lying at the rich man's gate, Content for the few crumbs I get to ask, A laborer but in heart, while bound my hands Jones Very [1813-1880] QUESTIONINGS HATH this world, without me wrought, Other substance than my thought? Lives it by my sense alone, Or by essence of its own? Will its life, with mine begun, Doth yon fire-ball, poised in air, |