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Xenophanes Post by :Ace_Of_Shirts Category :Poems Author :Ralph Waldo Emerson Date :November 2010 Read :2928

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By fate, not option, frugal Nature gave
One scent to hyson and to wall-flower,
One sound to pine-groves and to waterfalls,
One aspect to the desert and the lake.
It was her stern necessity: all things
Are of one pattern made; bird, beast and flower,
Song, picture, form, space, thought and character
Deceive us, seeming to be many things,
And are but one. Beheld far off, they part
As God and devil; bring them to the mind,
They dull its edge with their monotony.
To know one element, explore another,
And in the second reappears the first.
The specious panorama of a year
But multiplies the image of a day,--
A belt of mirrors round a taper's flame;
And universal Nature, through her vast
And crowded whole, an infinite paroquet,
Repeats one note.

(The end)
Ralph Waldo Emerson's poem: Xenophanes

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When I was born,From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice,Saying, 'This be thy portion, child; this chalice,Less than a lily's, thou shalt daily drawFrom my great arteries,--nor less, nor more.'All substances the cunning chemist TimeMelts down into that liquor of my life,--Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, beauty and disgust.And whether I am angry or content,Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt,All he distils into sidereal wineAnd brims my little cup; heedless, alas!Of all he sheds how little it will hold,How much runs over on the desert sands.If a new Muse draw me with splendid ray,And I uplift myself into its

Holidays Holidays

From fall to spring, the russet acorn, Fruit beloved of maid and boy,Lent itself beneath the forest, To be the children's toy.Pluck it now! In vain,--thou canst not; Its root has pierced yon shady mound;Toy no longer--it has duties; It is anchored in the ground.Year by year the rose-lipped maiden, Playfellow of young and old,Was frolic sunshine, dear to all men, More dear to one than mines of gold.Whither went the lovely hoyden? Disappeared in blessed wife;Servant to a wooden cradle, Living in a baby's life.Still thou playest;--short vacation Fate grants each to stand aside;Now must thou be man and artist,--