Henry David Thoreau

(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862 / Concord, Massachusetts)

Henry David Thoreau Poems

1. To A Marsh Hawk In Spring 4/26/2012
2. Away! Away! Away! Away! 4/26/2012
3. Tall Ambrosia 4/26/2012
4. Sympathy 4/26/2012
5. Within The Circuit Of This Plodding Life 4/12/2010
6. Though All The Fates 4/12/2010
7. The Fisher’s Boy 4/12/2010
8. The Poet's Delay 4/12/2010
9. Salmon Brook 4/12/2010
10. Great God, I Ask For No Meaner Pelf 4/26/2012
11. What's The Railroad To Me? 1/3/2003
12. I Was Made Erect And Lone 4/26/2012
13. They Who Prepare My Evening Meal Below 1/3/2003
14. Light-Winged Smoke 4/12/2010
15. The Inward Morning 1/3/2003
16. Like A Soul 4/12/2010
17. Song Of Nature 4/12/2010
18. All Things Are Current Found 4/12/2010
19. Men Say They Know Many Things 4/12/2010
20. Sic Vita 1/3/2003
21. I Am A Parcel Of Vain Strivings Tied 1/3/2003
22. On Fields O'Er Which The Reaper's Hand Has Pass'D 1/3/2003
23. Let Such Pure Hate Still Underprop 1/3/2003
24. Low-Anchored Cloud 1/3/2003
25. Pray To What Earth Does This Sweet Cold Belong 1/3/2003
26. Prayer 1/3/2003
27. Rumors From An Aeolian Harp 1/3/2003
28. Nature 4/12/2010
29. Smoke 1/3/2003
30. I Am The Autumnal Sun 1/3/2003
31. Epitaph On The World 1/3/2003
32. My Life Has Been The Poem 4/12/2010
33. I Knew A Man By Sight 1/3/2003
34. Winter Memories 1/3/2003
35. Mist 1/3/2003
36. The Summer Rain 1/3/2003
37. Inspiration 1/3/2003
38. Conscience 1/3/2003
39. The Moon 1/3/2003
40. Indeed, Indeed I Cannot Tell 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Henry David Thoreau


I think awhile of Love, and while I think,
Love is to me a world,
Sole meat and sweetest drink,
And close connecting link
Tween heaven and earth.

I only know it is, not how or why,
My greatest happiness;
However hard I try,
Not if I were to die,
Can I explain.

I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I'm dumb.

For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
But only thinks and does;
Though surely out 'twill leak
Without the help of...

Read the full of Friendship

Epitaph On The World

Here lies the body of this world,
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled.
This golden youth long since was past,
Its silver manhood went as fast,
An iron age drew on at last;
'Tis vain its character to tell,
The several fates which it befell,
What year it died, when 'twill arise,
We only know that here it lies.

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