Henry David Thoreau

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

Henry David Thoreau Poems

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

Friendship

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

I Am The Autumnal Sun

Sometimes a mortal feels in himself Nature
-- not his Father but his Mother stirs
within him, and he becomes immortal with her
immortality. From time to time she claims
kindredship with us, and some globule
from her veins steals up into our own.

I am the autumnal sun,
With autumn gales my race is run;

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