The Night

The thunder that shivers in my wood, The lightning trembles on the pond, The dew falling, as light astounds, More luminous than the bolts or words, And the evening growing colder and darker, Seems solemn than the spirits song, If one who never speaks will muse, Let our hearts alike content, and quiet.

Nature measured by the seasons: To the stars right up to them. —Planets cup wherefor they coil and spin, Between the quicken tides and common days. Leaves bud, drop, and pass beyond us, And flowers bend, blending kindness, If but a thought of sunshine felt. Wrap and shroud the motions & measure, So I seek reverse to fathom and abide.

—Henry David Thoreau

• Henry David Thoreau