Birds trailed him with their ardent wings and made A singing storm around him, when he came To Walden Pond, and after him, like flame Their singing followed under Walden shade. And every spring returned to him the same Blue herons, tall and hesitant and tame; With his blue shadow, as he moved, there swayed Fishes who loved the gloom his body made. But men who scan his words with cautious eyes Forbid their winged hearts to understand. They never flocked like birds to touch his hand Simple and sure and musically wise. He lived, and was a stranger in this land -- Above his hut a startled heron flies. |