John Thoreau's death was singular and painful; his brother could not speak of it without physical suffering, so that when he related it to his friend Ricketson at New Bedford, he turned pale and was forced to go to the door for air. This was the only time Mr. Ricketson ever saw him show deep emotion. His sister Sophia once said:—
"Henry rarely spoke of dear John; it pained him too much. He sent the following verses from Staten Island in May, 1843, the year after John's death, in a letter to Helen. You will see that they apply to himself:"—
"Brother, where dost thou dwell?
What sun shines for thee now?
Dost thou, indeed, fare well,
As we wished here below?
"What season didst thou find?
'T was winter here.
Are not the Fates more kind
Than they appear?
"Is thy brow clear again,
As in thy youthful years?
And was that ugly pain
The summit of thy fears?
"Yet thou wast cheery still;
They could not quench thy fire;
Thou didst abide their will,
And then retire.
"Where chiefly shall I look
To feel thy presence near?
Along the neighboring brook
May I thy voice still hear?
"Dost thou still haunt the brink
Of yonder river's tide?
And may I ever think
That thou art by my side?
"What bird wilt thou employ
To bring me word of thee?
For it would give them joy,—
'T would give them liberty,
To serve their former lord
With wing and minstrelsy.
"A sadder strain mixed with their song,
They've slowlier built their nests;
Since thou art gone
Their lively labor rests.