The last two lines of “Smoke,” by Henry Thoreau, embody the author's characteristic paganism. F. O. Matthiessen points out (American Renaissance, p. 166), that “clear flame” includes in its meaning the flame of Thoreau's own spirit—so confident and firm that it approaches hubris. Such a reading is supported by the poem's context, which is the entire book Walden. I wish to go further and suggest reasons why the literal flame, the one in Thoreau's fireplace, is a clear flame. In using this expression Thoreau may be asserting once again his contention that it is not man's business to worship, in any ordinary sense, the Deity; that is, the significance of “clear” may be that there is here no burnt offering, no obeisance to the gods.

The concluding lines with their imperatives “go” and “ask” are of dominant importance in the one-sentence poem. Everything else is preparatory—examining, with minuteness, smoke as a phenomenon. We are caused to brood upon it as a boy or a savage would brood. The solemn pillar we focus our attention on still arouses, here in Concord Township, whatever thoughts it aroused in aboriginal man or in the men of intervening civilizations. One such thought is that smoke is some kind of message carried from earth to sky. Things that travel where earth-dwellers cannot go have always fascinated poets and mythmakers. They fascinate Thoreau, as he shows in the epithets “lark without song” and “Icarian bird.” They fascinate children, who in playing with kites send “letters” (scraps of paper) up the kite string. Another thought, equally spontaneous, is that of a placatory message: an offering or sacrifice. To men in the youth of the world—to the Greeks in Homer, to Noah in Genesis, to Thoreau's own Hindus—upward-traveling smoke suggested sending a pleasing savor to the nostrils of the gods. Thus, the idea of a sacrificial altar lies just under the surface of the poem. The idea is finally made visible in the word “incense.”

It is “my” incense. Earlier, the poem is impersonal, but here it comes round to Thoreau himself, and comes in the final line to what produces the smoke, Thoreau's own activity. The subject is now human behavior, specifically the self-assured behavior of Henry Thoreau. For the point of the poem is that his “incense” is nothing but the normal fragrance of burning wood. The reason it is appropriate to speak of asking pardon is precisely that the flame is clear, unthickened by any sacrifice, expressive of no deference or supplication. And Thoreau seeks pardon confidently, even perfunctorily. He has no doubt that the perfume emanating from the daily business of living is the right kind of incense to offer the gods.