Explore "The Poet's Delay" by Henry David Thoreau on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In vain I see the morning rise, / In vain observe the western blaze, / Who idly look to other skies, / Expecting life by other ways.
Amidst such boundless wealth without, / I only still am poor within, / The birds have sung their summer out, / But still my spring does not begin.
Shall I then wait the autumn wind, / Compelled to seek a milder day, / And leave no curious nest behind, / No woods still echoing to my lay?