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Whitman, Walt, 1819-1892

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

Everything was yet plainly
visible; for miles north and south, ice, ice, ice, mostly broken,
but some big cakes, and no clear water in sight. The shores, piers,
surfaces, roofs, shipping, mantled with snow. A faint winter vapor
hung a fitting accompaniment around and over the endless whitish
spread, and gave it just a tinge of steel and brown.
_Feb. 6_.--As I cross home in the 6 P. M. boat again, the transparent
shadows are filled everywhere with leisurely falling, slightly
slanting, curiously sparse but very large, flakes of snow. On the
shores, near and far, the glow of just-lit gas-clusters at intervals.
The ice, sometimes in hummocks, sometimes floating fields, through
which our boat goes crunching. The light permeated by that peculiar
evening haze, right after sunset, which sometimes renders quite
distant objects so distinctly.

SPRING OVERTURES--RECREATIONS
_Feb. 10_.--The first chirping, almost singing, of a bird to-day. Then
I noticed a couple of honey-bees spirting and humming about the open
window in the sun.
_Feb. 11_.--In the soft rose and pale gold of the declining light,
this beautiful evening, I heard the first hum and preparation of
awakening spring--very faint--whether in the earth or roots, or
starting of insects, I know not--but it was audible, as I lean'd on a
rail (I am down in my country quarters awhile,) and look'd long at the
western horizon. Turning to the east, Sirius, as the shadows deepen'd,
came forth in dazzling splendor.


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