March fans it, April christens it, and May puts on its jacket and trousers. It never grows up, but Alexandrian-like “drags its slow length along,” ever springing, bud following close upon leaf, and when winter comes it is not annihilated, but creeps on mole-like under the snow, showing its face nevertheless occasionally by fuming springs and watercourses.
So let it be with man,—let his manhood be a more advanced and still advancing youth, bud following hard upon leaf. By the side of the ripening corn let’s have a second or third crop of peas and turnips, decking the fields in a new green. So amid clumps of sere herd’s grass sometimes flower the violet and buttercup spring-born.
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Followers of this blog might want to check out the article on John Cheever in today's New York Times, which contains this Thoreauvian quote from Cheever:
The sky is mixed, but there is some blue, and the motion of skating, and the lightness and coldness of the air involve quite clearly for me a beauty—a moral beauty. By this I mean that it corrects the measure and nature of my thinking. Space, perhaps, is what I mean, but there is the moral beauty of light, velocity and environment.
let a child achieve adulthood striving ever forth for the new,but he must keep the wonderment of the child alive , just as the bud is fed and nurtured buy the roots and stalk ! if not one has only the day!. michael jameson oldantiqueguy@hotmail.com
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