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Whitman, Walt, 1819-1892

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

Near where I sit grows a tall-stemm'd weed topt
with a profusion of rich scarlet blossoms, on which the snowy insects
alight and dally, sometimes four or five of them at a time. By-and-by
a humming-bird visits the same, and I watch him coming and going,
daintily balancing and shimmering about. These white butterflies give
new beautiful contrasts to the pure greens of the August foliage, (we
have had some copious rains lately,) and over the glistening bronze of
the pond-surface. You can tame even such insects; I have one big and
handsome moth down here, knows and comes to me, likes me to hold him
up on my extended hand.
_Another Day, later_.--A grand twelve-acre field of ripe cabbages with
their prevailing hue of malachite green, and floating-flying over and
among them in all directions myriads of these same white butterflies.
As I came up the lane to-day I saw a living globe of the same, two or
three feet in diameter, many scores cluster'd together and rolling
along in the air, adhering to their ball-shape, six or eight feet
above the ground.

A NIGHT REMEMBRANCE
_Aug. 23, 9-10 A.M._--I sit by the pond, everything quiet, the broad
polish'd surface spread before me--the blue of the heavens and the
white clouds reflected from it--and flitting across, now and then,
the reflection of some flying bird. Last night I was down here with
a friend till after midnight; everything a miracle of splendor--the
glory of the stars, and the completely rounded moon--the passing
clouds, silver and luminous-tawny--now and then masses of vapory
illuminated scud--and silently by my side my dear friend.


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