To the stars, light,
To the weary, night,
To the busy, day,
To the idle, play,—
And so their good cheer never ends,
For all are their debtors and all their friends.
Such is a race which has long had a foothold in this land, and which these vagrant immigrants shall never displace.
TRANSCENDENTAL FARMING
What have I to do with plows? I cut an other furrow than you see. Where the off ox treads, there is it not; it is farther off; where the nigh ox walks, it will not be; it is nigher still. If corn fails, my crop fails not. What of drought, what of rain!
My ground is high,
But 'tis not dry;
What you call dew
Comes filtering through.
Buy a farm? Buy a broom! What have I to pay for a farm with, that a farmer will take?—
If from your price ye will not swerve,
Why then I ll think the gods reserve
A greater bargain there above;
Out of their superabundant love,
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