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THURSDAY.
"He trode the implanted forest floor, whereon
The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone,
Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear,
And up the tall mast runs the woodpecker.
* * * * *
Where darkness found him he lay glad at night;
There the red morning touched him with its light.
* * * * *
Go where he will, the wise man is at home,
His hearth the earth,—his hall the azure dome;
Where his clear spirit leads him, there 's his road,
By God's own light illumined and foreshowed."
Emerson.
