Henry Thoreau (Генри Торо)

* * *

What's the railroad to me?
I never go to see
Where it ends.
It fills a few hollows,
And makes banks for the swallows,
It sets the sand a-blowing,
And the blackberries a-growing.

Henry Thoreau’s other poems:

  1. Let Such Pure Hate Still Underprop
  2. Smoke
  3. On Fields Oer Which the Reaper’s Hand Has Passd
  4. Indeed Indeed, I Cannot Tell
  5. Pray to What Earth Does This Sweet Cold Belong

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