Self-sown my stately garden grows; From mountains far and valleys near The harvests sown to-day Thrive in all weathers without fear, - In cities high the careful crowds Methought the sky looked scornful down On all was base in man, And airy tongues did taunt the town, 'Achieve our peace who can!' What need I holier dew Than Walden's haunted wave, Distilled from heaven's alembic blue, Steeped in each forest cave? [If Thought unlock her mysteries, I walk in marble galleries, |