To My Brother (Thoreau)
Brother, where dost thou dwell ?
What sun shines for thee now ?
Dost thou indeed fare well,
As we wished thee here below ?
What season didst thou find ?
'Twas winter here.
Are not the Fates more kind
Than they appear?
Is thy brow clear again
As in thy youthful years ?
And was that ugly pain
The summit of thy fears ?
Yet thou wast cheery still;
They could not quench thy fire;
Thou didst abide their will,
And then retire.
Where chiefly shall I look
To feel thy presence near?
Along the neighboring brook
May I thy voice still hear ?
Dost thou still haunt the brink
Of yonder river's tide ?
And may I ever think
That thou art by my side ?
What bird wilt thou employ
To bring me word of thee ?
For it would give them joy
'T would give them liberty
To serve their former lord
With wing and minstrelsy.
A sadder strain mixed with their song,
They've slowlier built their nests;
Since thou art gone
Their lively labor rests.
Where is the finch, the thrush,
I used to hear ?
Ah, they could well abide
The dying year.
Now they no more return,
I hear them not;
They have remained to mourn,
Or else forgot.
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This work published before January 1, 1923 is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. |
