Page:Poems, Emerson, 1847.djvu/207

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195

THE HOUSE.


There is no architect
Can build as the Muse can;
She is skilful to select
Materials for her plan;


Slow and warily to choose
Rafters of immortal pine,
Or cedar incorruptible,
Worthy her design.


She threads dark Alpine forests,
Or valleys by the sea,
In many lands, with painful steps,
Ere she can find a tree.