The main river is not yet open but in very few places, but the North Branch, which is so much more rapid, is open near Tarbell’s and Harrington’s, where I walked today, and flowing with full tide bordered with ice on either side, sparkles in the clear, cool air, —a silvery sparkle as from a stream that would not soil the sky.
Half the ground is covered with snow. It is a moderately cool and pleasant day near the end of winter. We have almost completely forgotten summer. This restless and now swollen stream has burst its icy fetters, and as I stand looking up it westward for half a mile, where it winds slightly under a high bank, its surface is lit up here and there with a fine-grained silvery sparkle which makes the river appear something celestial, —more than a terrestrial river,— which might have suggested that which surrounded the shield in Homer. If rivers come out of their icy prison thus bright and immortal, shall not I too resume my spring life with joy and hope? Have I no hopes to sparkle on the surface of life’s current?
2 comments:
yes hope springs eternal like a flicker of light, we are blessed for the flicker of time we are aware!,spend little time lamenting and know all you really have is your joy and the joy you can bestow on others,if you have no joy in your heart, hope dream and work for that alone. michael jameson oldantiqueguy@hotmail.com
reading my words of a year ago, i wonder am i set in my ways, my thoughts?, have i not bettered myself ? or am i happy with who i am ? ,, i think a new tomorrow will always tell a new tale!.
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