The Wild Honey Suckle

Fair flower, that dost so comely grow, Hid in this silent, lowly vale, Tho’ from eyes of men you go, With your stalk of slender pale: A sweetness from your nature flows, That nourishes me to the core; Thy nectarous balm on me bestows A pleasure that I knew before.

While I gaze on your charms, My heart with this worship swells, And in quiet, hidden balms, Halcyon’s hymn the blossoms tells.

Also, the hawthorn blue, Come to be loved anew, And taking all I see, I drink what nature gives,

For it heals like a honey dew And lifts my soul with ease.

—Henry David Thoreau

• Henry David Thoreau