I see Fair Haven Pond
with its island and meadow
between the island
and the shore and a
strip of perfectly still and
smooth water in the
lee of the island
and two hawks fish hawks perhaps
sailing over it.
I do not see how
it could be improved or yet
what these things can be.
I begin to see
such an object when I
cease to understand it.
and I see that I
did not appreciate or
realize it before --
how adapted these
forms and colors to my eye!
meadow and island!
Nature so reserved!
the hawks and ducks so aloof!
What are these things?
I get no further than this
We are made to love
pond and meadow as the wind
to ripple water.
November 21, 1850
I see my future
the world suddenly flooded
with a serene light.
These forms and colors
so adapted to my eye
cannot be improved.
We are made to love
pond and meadow, as the wind
to ripple water.
Two little dippers,
one up-stream, the other down,
this still, overcast day.
 |
| November 21, 2016 |
Probably the bulk of the scarlet oak leaves are fallen. November 21, 1858
I find very handsome ones strewn over the floor of Potter’s maple swamp. They are brown above, but still purple beneath. November 21, 1858
These are so deeply cut and the middle and lobes of the leaf so narrow that they look like the remnant of leafy stuff out of which leaves have been cut, or like scrap-tin. The lobes are remarkably sharp pointed and armed with long bristles. Yes, they lie one above another like masses of scrap-tin. November 21, 1858
*****
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 © 2009-2019
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