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each and all. - Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, vol. 9 (Poems) [1909]

Edition used:

The Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, in 12 vols. Fireside Edition (Boston and New York, 1909).

Part of: The Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, in 12 vols. (Fireside Edition).

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each and all.

    • Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked down
    • Of thee from the hill-top looking down;
    • The heifer that lows in the upland farm,
    • Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;
    • The sexton, tolling his bell at noon,
    • Deems not that great Napoleon
    • Stops his horse, and lists with delight,
    • Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height;
    • Nor knowest thou what argument
    • Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent.
    • All are needed by each one;
    • Nothing is fair or good alone.
    • I thought the sparrow's note from heaven,
    • Singing at dawn on the alder bough;
    • I brought him home, in his nest, at even;
    • He sings the song, but it cheers not now,
    • For I did not bring home the river and sky;—
    • He sang to my ear,—they sang to my eye.
    • The delicate shells lay on the shore;
    • The bubbles of the latest wave
    • Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,
    • And the bellowing of the savage sea
    • Greeted their safe escape to me.
    • I wiped away the weeds and foam,
    • I fetched my sea-born treasures home;
    • But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
    • Had left their beauty on the shore
    • With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.
    • The lover watched his graceful maid,
    • As ‘mid the virgin train she strayed,
    • Nor knew her beauty's best attire
    • Was woven still by the snow-white choir.
    • At last she came to his hermitage,
    • Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;—
    • The gay enchantment was undone,
    • A gentle wife, but fairy none.
    • Then I said, ‘I covet truth;
    • Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat;
    • I leave it behind with the games of youth;’—
    • As I spoke, beneath my feet
    • The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath,
    • Running over the club-moss burrs;
    • I inhaled the violet's breath;
    • Around me stood the oaks and firs;
    • Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground;
    • Over me soared the eternal sky,
    • Full of light and of deity;
    • Again I saw, again I heard,
    • The rolling river, the morning bird;—
    • Beauty through my senses stole;
    • I yielded myself to the perfect whole.