مطوفًا في الفكر

(بعد قراءة لهيجل)
مطوفًا
أفكر في الكون،
رأيت القليل الذي هو خير
يتقدم بخطى ثابتة
نحو الخلود.
ورأيت الكثير الذي هو شرّ
يمضي سريعًا:
ينحلّ
ويتبدّد
ويموت.

Sail, sail thy best, ship of democracy,
Of value is thy freight, 'tis not the present only,
The past is also stored in thee,
Thou holdest not the venture of thyself alone, not of the western continent alone,
Earth's resume entire floats upon thy keel, O ship, is steadied by thy spars,
With thee Time voyages in trust, the antecedent nations sink or swim with thee,
With all their ancient struggles , martyrs, heroes, epics, wars, thou bear'st the other continents,
Theirs, theirs as much as thine, the destination-port triumphant..

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We were together.
I forget the rest.

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I exist as I am. THAT IS ENOUGH. If no other in the world be aware, I sit content. And if each and all be aware, I sit content.

My respiration and inspiration...the beating of my heart...the passing of blood and air through my lungs, the sniff of green leaves and dry leaves and of the short and dark colored sea-rocks and of hay in the barn...the delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hillsides, the feeling of health...the full moon trill...the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.

It is that something in the soul which says, — Rage on, whirl on, I tread master here and everywhere; master of the spasms of the sky and of the shatter of the sea, master of nature and passion and death, and of all terror and all pain.

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Something long preparing and formless is arrived and formed in you,
You are henceforth secure, whatever comes or goes.
The threads that were spun are gathered, the weft crosses the warp, the
pattern is systematic.
The preparations have every one been justified, The orchestra have sufficiently tuned their instruments — the baton has given the signal. The guest that was coming — he waited long, for reasons — he is now housed; He is one of those who are beautiful and happy — he is one of those that to look upon and be with is enough.

Oh while I live, to be the ruler of life, not a slave, to meet life as a powerful conqueror, and nothing exterior to me will ever take command of me

The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.

The earth never tires,
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first,
Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first,
Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop'd,
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.