Page:Autumn. From the Journal of Henry D. Thoreau.djvu/267

Rh strains sound like a wild harp music. There is apology enough for all the deficiency and short coming in the world in the patient waiting of any bud of character to unfold itself.

Only character can command our reverent love. It is all mysteries in itself.

What is it gilds the trees and clouds, And paints the heavens so gay, But yonder fast-abiding light With its unchanging ray. I've felt within my inmost soul Such cheerful morning news, In the horizon of my mind I've seen such morning hues, As in the twilight of the dawn When the first birds awake, Is heard within some silent wood When they the small twigs break; Or in the eastern skies is seen Before the sun appears, Foretelling of the summer heats Which far away he bears.

Walden. I seem to discern the very form of the wind when, blowing over the hills, it falls in broad flakes upon the surface of the pond, this subtle element obeying the law of the least subtle. I cannot but be encouraged by the blithe activity of the elements. Who hears the rippling of the rivers will not utterly despair of anything. The wind in the wood yonder