I sing to living in the Garden
where the Mother and Father are One
"I have occasional visits in the long winter
evenings, when the snow falls fast and the wind howls in the wood, from an old settler and original
proprietor, who is reported to have dug Walden Pond, and stoned it, and fringed
it with pine woods.
He tells me
stories of old times and of a new
Between us we manage to pass a cheerful evening with
social mirth and pleasant views of things, even without apples or cider, a most
wise and humorous friend,
whom I love much, who keeps himself secret.
Though he is thought to
be dead, none can show where he is
An elderly dame, too, dwells in my neighborhood,
invisible to most persons,
in whose odorous herb garden I
love to stroll sometimes, gathering
and listening to her fables.
She has a genius of unequaled fertility, and her
memory runs back farther than
mythology, and she can tell me the
original of every fable, and on what
fact every one is founded, for the incidents occurred when she was young.
A ruddy and lusty old dame, who
delights in all weathers and seasons, and is likely to outlive all her children
yet." - Henry David Thoreau
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