I knock on the earth for my friend.
I expect to meet him at every turn,
But no friend appears.
Perhaps none is dreaming of me.

I am tired of frivolous society,
Where silence is forever the most natural
      and the best manners.
I would walk on the deep waters,
But my companions only walk
      in shallows and puddles.

Two yards of politeness
Do not make society for me.
One complains I do not take his jokes.
I took them before he had done uttering them,
      and went my way.

- June 11, 1855