How it is I know
not, but I often realize a presence here--in clear moods I am certain
of it, and neither chemistry nor reasoning nor esthetics will give the
least explanation. All the past two summers it has been strengthening
and nourishing my sick body and soul, as never before. Thanks,
invisible physician, for thy silent delicious medicine, thy day and
night, thy waters and thy airs, the banks, the grass, the trees, and
e'en the weeds!
A QUINTETTE
While I have been kept by the rain under the shelter of my great
oak, (perfectly dry and comfortable, to the rattle of the drops
all around,) I have pencill'd off the mood of the hour in a little
quintette, which I will give you:
At vacancy with Nature,
Acceptive and at ease,
Distilling the present hour,
Whatever, wherever it is,
And over the past, oblivion.
Can you get hold of it, reader dear? and how do you like it anyhow?
THE FIRST FROST--MEMS
Where I was stopping I saw the first palpable frost, on my sunrise
walk, October 6; all over the yet-green spread a light blue-gray veil,
giving a new show to the entire landscape. I had but little time
to notice it, for the sun rose cloudless and mellow-warm, and as I
returned along the lane it had turn'd to glittering patches of wet. As
I walk I notice the bursting pods of wild-cotton, (Indian hemp they
call it here,) with flossy-silky contents, and dark red-brown seeds--a
startled rabbit--I pull a handful of the balsamic life-ever-lasting
and stuff it down in my trowsers-pocket for scent.
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