HENRY THOREAU
or Herbert's “Constancie,” — to one who knew Henry Thoreau well, whose image would more quickly arise than his? Does one need to labor to prove that he had a religion?
Read his acknowledgment of the sudden coming of spiritual help, —
“It comes in Summer's broadest noon.
By a grey wall, in some chance place,
Unseasoning time, insulting June,
And vexing day with its presuming face.
“I hearing get, who had but ears.
And sight, who had but eyes before;
I moments live, who lived but years.
And truth discern, who knew but learning's lore.
“I will not doubt the love untold.
Which not my worth or want hath bought,
Which woed me young, and woes me old.
And to this evening hath me brought.”
Thoreau was but forty-four years old when he died. Even his health could not throw off a chill got by long stooping in
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