AUGUST 



II 



The lustre of the season begins to dim, the foli- 

 age of the trees and woods to tarnish, the plumage 

 of the birds to fade, and their songs to cease. The 

 hints of approaching fall are on every hand. How 

 suggestive this thistledown, for instance, which, 

 as I sit by the open window, comes in and brushes 

 softly across my hand ! The first snowflake tells 

 of winter not more plainly than this driving down 

 heralds the approach of fall. Come here, my fairy, 

 and tell me whence you come and whither you go ? 

 What brings you to port here, you gossamer ship 

 sailing the great sea? 



BURROUGHS: Winter Sunshine. 



12 



EDITH M. THOMAS, 1854. 



The nighthawk circled overhead in the sunny 

 afternoons for I sometimes made a day of it 

 like a mote in the eye, or in heaven's eye, falling 

 from time to time with a swoop and a sound as if 

 the heavens were rent, torn at last to very rags and 

 tatters, and yet a seamless cope remained ; small 

 imps that fill the air and lay their eggs on the 

 ground on the bare sand or rocks on the tops of 

 hills, where few have found them ; graceful and 

 slender like ripples caught up from the pond, as 

 leaves are raised by the wind to float in the hea- 

 vens ; such kindredship is in Nature. 



THORKAU: Walden. 



