He spent one night in jail
for not paying his poll tax.
Good government, he wrote,
governs least. He kept his
integrity intact by composing
"Civil Disobedience." He did
what he proclaimed: Pay the price.
Suffer judgment for what is right.

At Walden Pond he embraced
simplicity and reflection; he
eschewed civilization's trappings.
He hammered out a budget
for supplies and survival.
He transformed the reeds and pond
into his temporary home. Vitality
exuded from his pen. He was alive!

Transcendentalism became his
religion of favor. Partial to "Hindoo"
philosophy, he sought the final
diminution of the unruly self.
His poems elevated the cosmos
above his puny human stature.
He situated the heart in a world
awash with questing and meaning.

Illusion obscured the way to life's
essence and virtue. Acute vision
of the natural world and shunning
all distractions proved the formula
for true fulfillment and strength.
He made the life of the mind matter;
his poetry gave voice to lasting wisdom.
He blossomed as a scribe of the soul.