Poems – John Burroughs


Who is John Burroughs

John Burroughs was a renowned poet whose words captured the beauty of nature and celebrated the simplicity of life. Born in 1837 in rural New York, Burroughs developed a deep love for the natural world at an early age. He spent much of his time exploring the forests and meadows near his home, observing the intricate wonders of plants and animals.

This profound connection with nature would become the foundation of his poetry. Burroughs’ verses were filled with vivid descriptions of landscapes and the delicate balance of ecosystems. His writing transported readers to serene meadows, majestic mountains, and tranquil streams. Through his words, he encouraged others to appreciate the natural world and to find solace in its wonders.

Burroughs’ poetry often reflected his belief in the simplicity of life. He rejected the materialistic values of his time and instead embraced a more minimalist and contemplative lifestyle. This philosophy was evident in his poetry, which focused on the beauty found in the ordinary. He celebrated the joy of a simple walk in the woods, the peace of a quiet moment by a stream, and the wonder of observing a bird in flight.

Burroughs’ poetry resonated with readers, as it reminded them of the importance of slowing down, connecting with nature, and finding contentment in the present moment. His poems continue to inspire and captivate audiences today, reminding us of the timeless beauty and significance of the natural world.


John Burroughs

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I rave no more ‘gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.