poet Henry David Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau

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Rumors From An Aeolian Harp

There is a vale which none hath seen,
Where foot of man has never been,
Such as here lives with toil and strife,
An anxious and a sinful life.
There every virtue has its birth,
Ere it descends upon the earth,
And thither every deed returns,
Which in the generous bosom burns.

There love is warm, and youth is young,
And poetry is yet unsung.
For Virtue still adventures there,
And freely breathes her native air.

And ever, if you hearken well,
You still may hear its vesper bell,
And tread of high-souled men go by,
Their thoughts conversing with the sky.

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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Comments about Rumors From An Aeolian Harp by Henry David Thoreau

  • Captain Herbert PoetryCaptain Herbert Poetry (5/26/2015 11:50:00 PM)

    A supetb and a classic masterpiece

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  • John HardestyJohn Hardesty (5/26/2015 5:09:00 PM)

    Common verse, I truly expected more!

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  • Kim BarneyKim Barney (5/26/2015 1:41:00 PM)

    Old-fashioned language but still sounds good today. Excellent meter and rhyme scheme.

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    1 person liked.
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Read poems about / on: poetry, birth, sky, life