For the Lord has said that the Poor are his children, and I thought His
children would live in His house.
But in the pews sat only Kings and Lords: at least all that sat there
were dressed like Kings and Lords; and I could not find the man I looked
for, who was in rags;—presently I saw the sexton refuse admission to a
man; lo, it was my poor man, he had on rags, and the sexton said, "No
ragged allowed."
O World, I wish there was room for a poet. In the time of David and of
Isaiah, in the time of John and of Homer, there was room for a poet. In
the time of Hyvernion and of Herve and of Omar Khayyam: in the time of
Shakspere, was room in the world for a poet.
In the time of Keats there was not room:
Perhaps now there is not room.
[1881]
In the lily, the sunset, the mountain, the rosy hues of all life, it is
easy to trace God. But it is in the dust that goes up from the unending
Battle of Things that we lose Him. Forever thro' the ferocities of
storms, the malice of the never-glutted oceans, the savagery of human
wars, the inexorable barbarities of accident, of earthquake and
mysterious Disease, one hears the voice of man crying, _where art thou,
my dear Lord and Master?_
But oh, how can ye trifle away your time at trades and waste yourself in
men's commerce, when ye might be here in the woods at commerce with
great angels, all heaven at purchase for a song.
I will be the Terpander of sadness;
I will string the shell of slow time for a lyre,
The shell of Tortoise-creeping time,
Till grief grow music.
I am but a small-winged bird:
But I will conquer the big world
As the bee-martin beats the crow,
By attacking it always from Above.
Ah how I desire this matter!
I am sure God would give it to me if He could.
I am sure that I would give it to Him if I could.
(But perhaps He knows it is not good for you.)
I know that He could make it good for me.
The United States in two hundred years has made Emerson out of a
witch-burner.