Explore "Lines" by Henry David Thoreau on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Though all the Fates should prove unkind, / Leave not your native land behind.
The ship, becalmed, at length stands still;
The steed must rest beneath the hill;
But swiftly still our fortunes pace / To find us out in every place.
The vessel, though her masts be firm, / Beneath her copper bears a worm;
Around the Cape, across the Line, / Till fields of ice her course confine;
It matters not how smooth the breeze, / How shallow or how deep the seas, / Whether she bears Manilla twine, / Or in her hold Madeira wine, / Or China teas, or Spanish hides, / In port or quarantine she rides;
Far from New England's blustering shore, / New England's worm her hulk shall bore, / And sink her in the Indian seas, -- / Twine, wine, and hides, and China teas.