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Whitman, Walt, 1819-1892

"Complete Prose Works Specimen Days and Collect, November Boughs and Goodbye My Fancy"

22_.--Reedy monotones of locust, or sounds of katydid--I hear
the latter at night, and the other both day and night. I thought the
morning and evening warble of birds delightful; but I find I can
listen to these strange insects with just as much pleasure. A single
locust is now heard near noon from a tree two hundred feet off, as I
write--a long whirring, continued, quite loud noise graded in distinct
whirls, or swinging circles, increasing in strength and rapidity up to
a certain point, and then a fluttering, quietly tapering fall. Each
strain is continued from one to two minutes. The locust-song is very
appropriate to the scene--gushes, has meaning, is masculine, is like
some fine old wine, not sweet, but far better than sweet.
But the katydid--how shall I describe its piquant utterances? One
sings from a willow-tree just outside my open bedroom window, twenty
yards distant; every clear night for a fortnight past has sooth'd me
to sleep. I rode through a piece of woods for a hundred rods the other
evening, and heard the katydids by myriads--very curious for once; but
I like better my single neighbor on the tree. Let me say more about
the song of the locust, even to repetition; a long, chromatic,
tremulous crescendo, like a brass disk whirling round and round,
emitting wave after wave of notes, beginning with a certain moderate
beat or measure, rapidly increasing in speed and emphasis, reaching
a point of great energy and significance, and then quickly
and gracefully dropping down and out.


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