Wiser far than human seer, Yellow-breeched philosopher! Seeing only what is fair, Sipping only what is sweet, 55 Thou dost mock at fate and care, Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. When the fierce north-western blast Cools sea and land so far and fast, Thou already slumberest deep; 60 Woe and want thou canst outsleep; Want and woe, which torture us, Thy sleep makes ridiculous. _Ralph Waldo Emerson._ CCLXIII _TO A WATERFOWL._ Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler’s eye 5 Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. Seek’st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 10 Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean-side? There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast-- The desert and illimitable air-- 15 Lone-wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near. 20 And soon that toil shall end, Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend Soon o’er thy sheltered nest. Thou’ art gone--the abyss of heaven 25 Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 30 In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright. _William Cullen Bryant._ CCLXIV _ASPIRATION._ Joy for the promise of our loftier homes! Joy for the promise of another birth! For oft oppressive unto pain becomes The riddle of the earth. A weary weight it lay upon my youth, 5 Ere I could tell of what I should complain; My very childhood was not free, in truth, From something of that pain. Hours of a dim despondency were there, Like clouds that take its colour from the rose, 10 Which, knowing not the darkness of the air, But its own sadness knows. Youth grew in strength--to bear a stronger chain; In knowledge grew--to know itself a slave; And broke its narrower shells again, again, 15 To feel a wider grave.