Each new year is a surprise to us. We find that we had virtually forgotten the note of each bird, and when we hear it again it is remembered like a dream, reminding us of a previous state of existence. How happens it that the associations it awakens are always pleasing, never saddening; reminiscences of our sanest hours? The voice of nature is always encouraging.
1 comment:
Thoreau's remarks during the approach to the vernal equinox place the inchoate feelings of spring into timeless - really rapturous- prose. Thank you for this.
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