THOUGH ALL THE FATES
by: Henry David Thoreau
(1817-1862)
- HOUGH 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.
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