Uneasy in the company of friends,
I felt no better sitting by myself;
Improving means had not improved the ends.
So I took Walden from my bedside shelf,
And on page nine, I nodded off at last—
And dreaming, met the spirit of Thoreau.
The specter spread his arms and cried, “Avast!
Oh, why so seeming fast but deadly slow?
You lead a life of quiet desperation—
But if you look about you, you will find
Pasture enough for your imagination!
Go out, and try to hear what’s in the wind!”
So I awoke, wrapped in a reverie,
And went to seek the things I could not see.