Poems (Emerson, 1847)/The Apology

For works with similar titles, see The Apology.
For other versions of this work, see The Apology (Emerson).

THE APOLOGY.


Think me not unkind and rude
That I walk alone in grove and glen;
I go to the god of the wood
To fetch his word to men.


Tax not my sloth that I
Fold my arms beside the brook;
Each cloud that floated in the sky
Writes a letter in my book.


Chide me not, laborious band,
For the idle flowers I brought;
Every aster in my hand
Goes home loaded with a thought.


There was never mystery
But 'tis figured in the flowers;
Was never secret history
But birds tell it in the bowers.


One harvest from thy field
Homeward brought the oxen strong;
A second crop thine acres yield,
Which I gather in a song.