Serene,
I fold my hands and wait,
Nor
care for wind, or tide, or sea;
I
rave no more ‘gainst time or fate,
For
lo! My own shall come to me.
I
stay my haste, I make delays,
For
what avails this eager pace?
I
stand amid the eternal ways,
And
what is mine shall know my face.
Asleep,
awake, by night or day,
The
friends I seek are seeking me;
No
wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor
change the tide of destiny.
What
matter if I stand alone?
I
wait with joy the coming years;
My
heart shall reap where it has sown,
And
garner up its fruit of tears.
The
waters know their own, and draw
The
brook that springs in yonder height;
So
flow the good with equal law
Unto
the soul of pure delight.
The
stars come nightly to the sky;
The
tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor
time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can
keep my own away from me.
-
John
Burroughs[1]
[1] John Burroughs (1837-1921) was an
American naturalist and essayist important in the evolution of the U.S.
conservation movement. According to biographers at the American Memory project
at the Library of Congress, John Burroughs was the most important practitioner
after Thoreau of that especially American literary genre, the nature essay. By
the turn of the century he had become a virtual cultural institution in his own
right: the Grand Old Man of Nature at a time when the American romance with the
idea of nature, and the American conservation movement, had come fully into
their own.
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