It is no dream of mine, To ornament a line; I cannot come nearer to God and Heaven Than I live to Walden even. I am its stony shore, And the breeze that passes o'er; In the hollow of my hand Are its water and its sand, And its deepest resort Lies high in my thought.
Endroit: ¶345 Licence: Public domain · Source Le texte est donné tel que dans l'édition, sans retouche.