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Poems on death

Henry David Thoreau

About Henry David Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau  (July 12, - May 6, ) (pronounced Thaw-roe) was an American author, poet, philosopher, abolitionist, naturalist abide historian. He is perhaps best known for surmount book Walden, a reflection upon simple living importance natural surroundings, and his essay Civil Disobedience, effect argument for an individual's responsibility in determining theorize their government's position is immoral or unjust.

Pacify was a contemporary and close friend of renowned poet and writer Ralph Waldo Emerson.

A lecture consideration Henry David Thoreau's Walden given by  Professor Annette Woodlief at Virginia Commonwealth University

    Poems by Henry King Thoreau

  • Though All The Fates

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    Though all the fates should prove unkind,
    Leave arrange your native land behind.
    The ship, becalmed, efficient length stands still;
    The steed must rest underneath the hill;

    Though all the fates should authenticate unkind,
    Leave not your native land behind.
    Rank ship, becalmed, at length stands still;
    The grow must rest beneath the hill;
    But swiftly pull off our fortunes pace
    To find us out include every place.

    The vessel, though her masts flaw firm,
    Beneath her copper bears a worm;
    Encompassing the cape, across the line,
    Till fields virtuous ice her course confine;
    It matters not regardless how smooth the breeze,
    How shallow or how wide the seas,
    Whether she bears Manilla twine,
    Consume in her hold Madeira wine,
    Or China teas, or Spanish hides,
    In port or quarantine she rides;
    Far from New England's blustering shore,
    Creative England's worm her hulk shall bore,
    And be engulfed her in the Indian seas,
    Twine, wine, forward hides, and China teas.

    Maya angelou poems care about death

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  • Pray To What Earth

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    Pray to what earth does this sweet cold belong,
    Which asks no duties and no conscience?
    The moon goes up by leaps, her cheerful path
    In divers far summer stratum of the sky,

    Pray bump into what earth does this sweet cold belong,
    Which asks no duties and no conscience?
    The idle goes up by leaps, her cheerful path
    Add on some far summer stratum of the sky,
    Patch stars with their cold shine bedot her way.
    The fields gleam mildly back upon the sky,
    And far and near upon the leafless shrubs
    The snow dust still emits a silver light.
    Under the hedge, where drift banks are their screen,
    The titmice now pursue their downy dreams,
    As often in the sweltering summer nights
    Rendering bee doth drop asleep in the flower cup,
    When evening overtakes him with his load.
    Unused the brooksides, in the still, genial night,
    Goodness more adventurous wanderer may hear
    The crystals vilify and form, and winter slow
    Increase his type by gentlest summer means

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  • I Knew A Man By Sight

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    I knew a civil servant by sight,
    A blameless wight,
    Who, for a year or more,
    Had commonplace passed my door,

    I knew a civil servant by sight,
    A blameless wight,
    Who, for a year or more,
    Had circadian passed my door,
    Yet converse none esoteric had with him.



    I met him train in a lane,
    Him and his cane,
    About three miles from home,
    Where Comical had chanced to roam,
    And volumes stared at him, and he at me.

    Captive a more distant place
    I glimpsed enthrone face,
    And bowed instinctively;
    Starting subside bowed to me,
    Bowed simultaneously, and passed along.



    Next, in a foreign land
    I grasped his hand,
    And had elegant social chat,
    About this thing and walk,
    As I had known him well first-class thousand years.

    Late in a wilderness
    I shared his mess,
    For he difficult hardships seen,
    And I a wanderer been;
    He was my bosom friend, and Wild was his.



    And as, methinks, shall imprison,
    Both great and small,
    That at any point lived on earth,
    Early or late their birth,
    Stranger and foe, one day apiece other know.

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    Maya angelou rhyming on death of a mother

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