Henry David Thoreau

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

Poems of Henry David Thoreau

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

The Summer Rain

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.

Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too,
Our Shakespeare's life were rich to live again,
What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true,
Nor Shakespeare's books, unless his books were men.

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