Page:Poems of nature, Thoreau, 1895.djvu/62

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38
POEMS OF NATURE

But be the favoring gale
That bears me on,
And still doth fill my sail
When thou art gone.


I cannot leave my sky
For thy caprice,
True love would soar as high
As heaven is.


The eagle would not brook
Her mate thus won,
Who trained his eye to look
Beneath the sun.