By the leaning oak,
the deep place where the willows
make a perfect shore.
At steam-mill sand-bank
the shadow of our shadows--
one is upside down.
Know the water-plants
not so much from the shore as
from the water side.
August 16, 1856
And the spearmint
so intoxicates me that
I am bewildered.
A blue heron with
its great undulating wings
and leisurely flight.
August 16, 1858
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2015
"A book, each page written in its own season,
out-of-doors, in its own locality."
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