Abide where you are --
as some walkers rest the whole
body at each step.
September 17, 1839
September 17.
The wise man abides
each moment there where he is –
he rests at each step.
September 17, 1839
I am glad to sit
in the sun on the east side
of the house mornings.
Methinks, too, that there
are more sparrows in flocks now
about in garden.
a short creaking note.
September 17, 1860
September 17, 1860
 |
| September 17, 2016 |
Cooler weather now for two or three days, so that I am glad to sit in the sun on the east side of the house mornings. September 17, 1858
Methinks, too, that there are more sparrows in flocks now about in garden, etc. September 17, 1858
What produces this flashing air of autumn? — a brightness as if there were not green enough to absorb the light, now that the first frosts wither the herbs. September 17, 1852
See a flock of eight or ten wood ducks on the Grindstone Meadow, with glass, some twenty-five rods off, — several drakes very handsome. September 17, 1860
At last one sails off, calling the others by a short creaking note. September 17, 1860
I go to Fair Haven Hill, looking at the varieties of nabalus, which have a singular prominence now in all woods and roadsides. September 17, 1857
How perfectly each plant has its turn! – as if the seasons revolved for it alone. September 17, 1857
Why, then, should man hasten as if anything less than eternity were allotted for the least deed? September 17, 1839
Nature never makes haste; her systems revolve at an even pace. The bud swells imperceptibly, without hurry or confusion, as though the short spring days were an eternity. September 17, 1839
The wise man is restful, never restless or impatient. He each moment abides there where he is, as some walkers actually rest the whole body at each step. September 17, 1839
A 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 © 2009-2020
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