Merops

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

What care I, so they stand the same,— Things of the heavenly mind,— How long the power to give them fame Tarries yet behind? Thus far to-day your favors reach, O fair, appeasing Presences! Ye taught my lips a single speech, And a thousand silences. Space grants beyond his fated road No inch to the god of day, And copious language still bestowed One word, no more, to say.