Melons and squashes
turn yellow in the gardens,
and ferns in the swamps.
See without looking.
I must walk with free senses,
a sauntering eye.
I must see without
looking – walk with free senses –
a sauntering eye.
How earnestly and rapidly each creature, each flower, is fulfilling its part while its day lasts! Nature never lost a day, nor a moment. September 13, 1852
Walk with free senses –
I must see without looking
a sauntering eye.
A morning sunrise
after a clear moonlight night
without dew or fog.
Here at this season
a golden blaze salutes me
from a thousand suns.
September 13, 1852
Surprised at the cool
autumnal dandelions
on top of the hill . . .
yellow as cool to
the eye as the creak of the
cricket to the ear.
September 13, 1856.
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| September 13, 2016 |
September 13, 2018
How earnestly and rapidly each creature, each flower, is fulfilling its part while its day lasts! Nature never lost a day, nor a moment. September 13, 1852A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau
"A book, each page written in its own season,
out-of-doors, in its own locality."
~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2019
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