按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Solitude
This is a delicious evening； when the whole body is one sense；
and imbibes delight through every pore。 I go and come with a
strange liberty in Nature； a part of herself。 As I walk along the
stony shore of the pond in my shirt…sleeves； though it is cool as
well as cloudy and windy； and I see nothing special to attract me；
all the elements are unusually congenial to me。 The bullfrogs trump
to usher in the night； and the note of the whip…poor…will is borne
on the rippling wind from over the water。 Sympathy with the
fluttering alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath； yet；
like the lake； my serenity is rippled but not ruffled。 These small
waves raised by the evening wind are as remote from storm as the
smooth reflecting surface。 Though it is now dark； the wind still
blows and roars in the wood； the waves still dash； and some
creatures lull the rest with their notes。 The repose is never
complete。 The wildest animals do not repose； but seek their prey
now； the fox； and skunk； and rabbit； now roam the fields and woods
without fear。 They are Nature's watchmen links which connect the
days of animated life。
When I return to my house I find that visitors have been there
and left their cards； either a bunch of flowers； or a wreath of
evergreen； or a name in pencil on a yellow walnut leaf or a chip。
They who come rarely to the woods take some little piece of the
forest into their hands to play with by the way； which they leave；
either intentionally or accidentally。 One has peeled a willow wand；
woven it into a ring； and dropped it on my table。 I could always
tell if visitors had called in my absence； either by the bended
twigs or grass； or the print of their shoes； and generally of what
sex or age or quality they were by some slight trace left； as a
flower dropped； or a bunch of grass plucked and thrown away； even as
far off as the railroad； half a mile distant； or by the lingering
odor of a cigar or pipe。 Nay； I was frequently notified of the
passage of a traveller along the highway sixty rods off by the scent
of his pipe。
There is commonly sufficient space about us。 Our horizon is
never quite at our elbows。 The thick wood is not just at our door；
nor the pond； but somewhat is always clearing； familiar and worn by
us； appropriated and fenced in some way； and reclaimed from Nature。
For what reason have I this vast range and circuit； some square
miles of unfrequented forest； for my privacy； abandoned to me by
men？ My nearest neighbor is a mile distant； and no house is visible
from any place but the hill…tops within half a mile of my own。 I
have my horizon bounded by woods all to myself； a distant view of
the railroad where it touches the pond on the one hand； and of the
fence which skirts the woodland road on the other。 But for the most
part it is as solitary where I live as on the prairies。 It is as
much Asia or Africa as New England。 I have； as it were； my own sun
and moon and stars； and a little world all to myself。 At night
there was never a traveller passed my house； or knocked at my door；
more than if I were the first or last man； unless it were in the
spring； when at long intervals some came from the village to fish
for pouts they plainly fished much more in the Walden Pond of
their own natures； and baited their hooks with darkness but they
soon retreated； usually with light baskets； and left 〃the world to
darkness and to me；〃 and the black kernel of the night was never
profaned by any human neighborhood。 I believe that men are
generally still a little afraid of the dark； though the witches are
all hung； and Christianity and candles have been introduced。
Yet I experienced sometimes that the most sweet and tender； the
most innocent and encouraging society may be found in any natural
object； even for the poor misanthrope and most melancholy man。
There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in the midst
of Nature and has his senses still。 There was never yet such a
storm but it was AEolian music to a healthy and innocent ear。
Nothing can rightly compel a simple and brave man to a vulgar
sadness。 While I enjoy the friendship of the seasons I trust that
nothing can make life a burden to me。 The gentle rain which waters
my beans and keeps me in the house today is not drear and
melancholy； but good for me too。 Though it prevents my hoeing them；
it is of far more worth than my hoeing。 If it should continue so
long as to cause the seeds to rot in the ground and destroy the
potatoes in the low lands； it would still be good for the grass on
the uplands； and； being good for the grass； it would be good for me。
Sometimes； when I compare myself with other men； it seems as if I
were more favored by the gods than they； beyond any deserts that I
am conscious of； as if I had a warrant and surety at their hands
which my fellows have not； and were especially guided and guarded。
I do not flatter myself； but if it be possible they flatter me。 I
have never felt lonesome； or in the least oppressed by a sense of
solitude； but once； and that was a few weeks after I came to the
woods； when； for an hour； I doubted if the near neighborhood of man
was not essential to a serene and healthy life。 To be alone was
something unpleasant。 But I was at the same time conscious of a
slight insanity in my mood； and seemed to foresee my recovery。 In
the midst of a gentle rain while these thoughts prevailed； I was
suddenly sensible of such sweet and beneficent society in Nature； in
the very pattering of the drops； and in every sound and sight around
my house； an infinite and unaccountable friendliness all at once
like an atmosphere sustaining me； as made the fancied advantages of
human neighborhood insignificant； and I have never thought of them
since。 Every little pine needle expanded and swelled with sympathy
and befriended me。 I was so distinctly made aware of the presence
of something kindred to me； even in scenes which we are accustomed
to call wild and dreary； and also that the nearest of blood to me
and humanest was not a person nor a villager； that I thought no
place could ever be strange to me again。
〃Mourning untimely consumes the sad；
Few are their days in the land of the living；
Beautiful daughter of Toscar。〃
Some of my pleasantest hours were during the long rain…storms in
the spring or fall； which confined me to the house for the afternoon
as well as the forenoon； soothed by their ceaseless roar and
pelting； when an early twilight ushered in a long evening in which
many thoughts had time to take root and unfold themselves。 In those
driving northeast rains which tried the village houses so； when the
maids stood ready with mop and pail in front entries to keep the
deluge out； I sat behind my door in my little house； which was all
entry； and thoroughly enjoyed its protection。 In one heavy
thunder…shower the lightning struck a large pitch pine across the
pond； making a very conspicuous and perfectly regular spiral groove
from top to bottom； an inch or more deep； and four or five inches
wide； as you would groove a walking…stick。 I passed it again the
other day； and was struck with awe on looking up and beholding that
mark； now more distinct than ever； where a terrific and resistless
bolt came down out of the harmless sky eight years ago。 Men
frequently say to me； 〃I should think you would feel lonesome down
there； and want to be nearer to folks； rainy and snowy days and
nights especially。〃 I am tempted to reply to such This whole
earth which we inhabit is but a point in space。 How far apart；
think you； dwell the two most distant inhabitants of yonder star；
the breadth of whose disk cannot be appreciated by our instruments？
Why should I feel lonely？ is not our planet in the Milky Way？ This
which you put seems to me not to be the most important qu