Ralph Waldo Emerson's poetry....

The other day i happened upon on op shop having a book sale, and found several old books from the late 1800s, for a dollar each. Gotta love that! One was 'Emerson the Complete Poems', the name was familiar....
Turns out to be a bit up my alley, having some lovely but opinionated poems on natural subjects and mythology. He is quoted as saying  "Philosophically considered, the universe is composed of Nature and the Soul.".

Here's  a couple of tasters, The first one from "The Blight"...

"Give me truths;
For I am weary of the surfaces,
And die of inanition. If I knew
Only the herbs and simples of the wood,
Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain and agrimony,
Blue vetch and trillium, hawkweed, sassafras,
Milkweeds and murky brakes, quaint pipes and sundew,
And rare and virtuous roots, which in these woods
Draw untold juices from the common earth,
Untold, unknown, and I could surely spell
Their fragrance, and their chemistry apply
By sweet affinities to human flesh,
Driving the foe and stabilising the friend,-
O, that were much, and I could be a part
Of the round day, related to the sun
And planted world, and full executor
Of their imperfect functions.
But these young scholars, who invade the hills,
Bold as the engineer who fells the wood,
And travelling often in the cut he makes,
Love not the flower they pluck, and know it not,
And all their botany is Latin names.
The old men studied magic in the flowers,
And human opportunities in astronomy,
And an omnipotence in chemistry,
Preferring things to names, for these were men,
Were unitarians of the united world,
And wheresoever their clear eye-beams fell,
They caught the footsteps of the SAME."

and from "Walden"

" In my garden three ways meet,
Thrice the spot is blessed;
Hermit thrush comes there to build,
Carrier doves to nest.

There broad armed oaks, the copses' maze,
The cold sea-wind detain;
Here sultry Summer overstays
When Autumn chills the plain.

Self-sown my stately garden grows;
The winds and wind blown seed,
Cold April rain and colder snows
My hedges plant and feed.

From mountains far and valleys near
The harvests sown to-day
Thrive in all weathers withot fear,
Wild planters, plant away!

In cities high the careful crowds
Of woe-worn mortals darkling go,
But in these sunny solitudes
My quiet roses grow. "