Poems by Henry David Thoreau
On Fields O'er Which the Reaper's Hand has Passed
... On fields o'er which the reaper's hand has pass'd ...
Rumors from an Aeolian Harp
... There love is warm, and youth is young, ...
The Inward Morning
... Where they the small twigs break, Or in the eastern skies are seen, ...
Low-Anchored Cloud
... Where bloom the daisied banks and violets, ...
Let such pure hate still underprop
... "Friends, Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers ...
Sic Vita
... That stock thus thinned will soon redeem its hours, ...
They Who Prepare my Evening Meal Below
... With such secure delight they hardly seemed to flow ...
I Am A Parcel Of Vain Strivings Tied
... That stock thus thinned will soon redeem its hours, ...
Pray To What Earth Does This Sweet Cold Belong
... Under the hedge, where drift banks are their screen, ...
All Things Are Current Found
... Cheat me no more with time, ...
Men Say They Know Many Things
... But lo! they have taken wings, — ...
Tall Ambrosia
... Bearing many a mile the marks of their adventure, ...
To a Marsh Hawk in Spring
... Thou dost health and leisure bring, ...
I Was Made Erect and Lone
... If age choose, give me the start, ...
Nature
... Than share the city's year forlorn ...
