Last night was so cold
the river closed everywhere
and made good skating.
Frozen wild apples
soon thaw in my chamber and
yield a sweet cider.
.
Transparent green ice
through which I see the bottom.
Walden froze last night.
December 19, 1856
Transparent green ice –
it is too much like walking
on water by faith.
December 19, 1856
Ice so transparent
it is too much like walking
on water by faith.
December 19, 1856
A faint rosy blush.
Horizon without a cloud --
suddenly sunset.
December 19, 1851
A faint rosy blush –
now the sun sets suddenly
and without a cloud.
December 19, 1851
A faint rosy blush.
horizon without a cloud --
sun sets suddenly.
December 19, 1851
A faint rosy blush
horizon without a cloud
suddenly sunset.
December 19, 1851
In all woods now heard
far and near a twilight sound –
the night of the year.
December 19, 1851
A twilight sound heard
now in the night of the year
the woodchopper's axe,
December 19, 1851
Last night was so cold
the river closed everywhere
and made good skating.
Walden froze last night.
Transparent green ice through which
I see the bottom.
Ice so transparent
it is too much like walking
on water by faith.
December 19, 1856
The encircled pond,
chilled by winter's icy grasp
froze over last night.
The young man is
a demigod -- He bathes in light.
He is but half here,
The young man is
a demigod -- the grown man
alas mere mortal.
December 19, 1859
a man whose thoughts are
few and hardened like his bones
is truly mortal
December 19, 1859
 |
| December 19, 2015 |
The wild apples are frozen as hard as stones, and rattle in my pockets, but I find that they soon thaw when I get to my chamber and yield a sweet cider. I am astonished that the animals make no more use of them. December 19, 1850
Last night was so cold that the river closed up almost everywhere, and made good skating where there had been no ice to catch the snow of the night before. December 19, 1854
Walden froze completely over last night. December 19, 1856
The fluid, timid pond was encircled within an ever-narrowing circle by the icy grasp of winter, and this is a trace of the last vaporous breath that curled along its trembling surface. December 19, 1856
This is very sudden, for on the evening of the 15th there was not a particle of ice in it. In just three days, then, it has been completely frozen over, and the ice is now from two and a half to three inches thick, a transparent green ice, through which I see the bottom where it is seven or eight feet deep. December 19, 1856
The ice is so transparent that it is too much like walking on water by faith. December 19, 1856
Now the sun sets suddenly without a cloud– & with scarcely any redness following so pure is the atmosphere – only a faint rosy blush along the horizon. December 19, 1851
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2016
"A book, each page written in its own season,
out-of-doors, in its own locality.”
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