I feel on my cheek
air cooled by the snow stretching
to the Icy Sea.
April 4, 1852A warm dripping rain
now heard on one's umbrella
as on a snug roof
a slow contentment
like turtles so comfortable
under their shells
we walk under the
clouds and mists all compact and
our thoughts collected
we seem to hear the
ground a-soaking up the rain
abroad in a storm.
We, too, are penetrated
and revived by it.
April 4, 1853
A warm dripping rain
now heard on one's umbrella
as on a snug roof
a slow contentment
like turtles under their shells
so comfortable
we walk under the
clouds and mists all compact
our thoughts collected
abroad in a storm.
We too are penetrated
and revived by it.
April 4, 1853
Snow-covered mountains
in the northwest horizon
glisten in the sun.
April 4, 1855
All the earth is bright.
in the northwest horizon
glisten in the sun.
April 4, 1855
All the earth is bright.
The very pines glisten and
the water is blue.
The wind piercing cold
I look to see sheeny snow
glazing the mountains.
Cold and sheeny snow
still glazing the mountains makes
the wind piercing cold.
April 4, 1859
The birds are eager
to sing, as flowers to bloom,
after raw weather.
April 4, 1860
the wind piercing cold.
April 4, 1859
The birds are eager
to sing, as flowers to bloom,
after raw weather.
April 4, 1860
After raw weather
the birds are eager to sing
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2020
"A book, each page written in its own season,
out-of-doors, in its own locality.”
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