Nature

Nature

O Nature! I do not aspire 
To be the highest in thy choir, - 
To be a meteor in thy sky, 
Or comet that may range on high; 
Only a zephyr that may blow 
Among the reeds by the river low; 
Give me thy most privy place 
Where to run my airy race. 

In some withdrawn, unpublic mead 
Let me sigh upon a reed, 
Or in the woods, with leafy din, 
Whisper the still evening in: 
Some still work give me to do, - 
Only - be it near to you! 

For I'd rather be thy child 
And pupil, in the forest wild, 
Than be the king of men elsewhere, 
And most sovereign slave of care; 
To have one moment of thy dawn, 
Than share the city's year forlorn.

by Henry David Thoreau