92 Walks in New England 



The hour is short, the span is long, 



The swan s near death Man s life is done.&quot; 



More native to spring are these broodings on 

 the brevity of earth than even to autumn, if one 

 considers closely. For much of this sweet prom 

 ise can have no fulfilment ; whereas as the fall 

 draws on apace, and the harvests are made, the 

 fruits brought in, we witness the accomplished re 

 sults of the energy of Nature and the labour of 

 man ; it is achieved, the year s growth and service, 

 and the sustenance of all things and creatures from 

 least to highest won once more from the earth. 



It is one mood of man to doubt most when 

 most is promised, to question most when most is 

 asserted, to apprehend storm when skies are fair 

 est, and ruin when omens favour. Tis this mood, 

 as often as the mood of defeat and discourage 

 ment, which rebukes the aspiring spirit and re 

 duces it to the weary level of the common ground. 

 So in times when out of the winter little by little 

 the sun lifts over the line, and the drifts that cover 

 the highways, and send travelers out into the 

 fields over rocks and stumps and fences in order 

 to get along at all, begin to shrink and lay bare 

 the true roads and expose the nature of the make 

 shifts, then the worry and work are the hardest, 

 and the change is the slowest to come. Yet it 

 always comes. 



