Good-by by Ralph Waldo Emerson Good-by, proud world, Im going home, Thourt not my friend, and Im not thine; Long through thy weary crowds I roam; A river-ark on the ocean brine, Long Ive been tossed like the driven foam, But now, proud world, Im going home. Good-by to Flatterys fawning face, To Grandeur, with his wise grimace, To upstart Wealths averted eye, To supple Office low and high, To crowded halls, to court, and street, To frozen hearts, and hasting feet, To those who go, and those who come, Good-by, proud world, Im going home. Im going to my own hearth-stone Bosomed in yon green hills, alone, A secret nook in a pleasant land, Whose groves the frolic fairies planned; Where arches green the livelong day Echo the blackbirds roundelay, And vulgar feet have never trod A spot that is sacred to thought and God. Oh, when I am safe in my sylvan home, I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome; And when I am stretched beneath the pines Where the evening star so holy shines, I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, At the sophist schools, and the learned clan; For what are they all in their high conceit, When man in the bush with God may meet.
Posted on: Thu, 28 Nov 2013 05:52:56 +0000
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