Pray to what earth does this sweet cold belong,
Which asks no duties and no conscience?
The moon goes up by leaps, her cheerful path
In some far summer stratum of the sky,
While stars with their cold shine bedot her way.
The fields gleam mildly back upon the sky,
And far and near upon the leafless shrubs
The snow dust still emits a silver light.
Under the hedge, where drift banks are their screen,
The titmice now pursue their downy dreams,
As often in the sweltering summer nights
The bee doth drop asleep in the flower cup,
When evening overtakes him with his load.
By the brooksides, in the still, genial night,
The more adventurous wanderer may hear
The crystals shoot and form, and winter slow
Increase his rule by gentlest summer means.
Back to Henry David Thoreau
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Comments2I enjoyed the tranquility and subtle energy in this poem. The vivid imagery it paints of the natural world makes me feel a deep connection with earth's quiet beauty through every season. It's just wonderfully peaceful and grounding.
JUST REMEMBERED I READ THIS IN MIDDLE SCHOOL. AMAZING HOW IT BRAUGHT BACK MEMORIES. STILL BEAUTIFULL AND TOUCHING. GIVES STRONG FEELS OF NATURE.