DECEMBER 



23 



The hills seen from Fair Haven Pond make a 

 wholly new landscape. Covered with snow and 

 yellowish green or brown pines, and shrub oaks, 

 they look higher and more massive. Their white 

 mantle relates them to the clouds in the horizon 

 and to the sky. Perhaps what is light-colored 



looks loftier than what is dark. 



THOREAU: Winter. 



Here comes a little flock of titmice plainly to 

 keep me company, with their black caps and 

 throats making them look top-heavy, restlessly 

 hopping along the alders with a sharp, clear, lisp- 

 ing note. 



THOREAU: Winter. 



24 



To-day, the noise of the woods was twofold : the 

 great wave or surge sound in the treetops as the 

 wind swept through them ; then, the fitful, caution- 

 ary, light whisper, the " sh " and " hist," that ran 

 everywhere among the dry leaves. And what is 

 the tragedy of the cast-off honors of the tree, that, 

 as the feet stir the leafy drift, there go forth the 

 syllables, " hor-ror, hor-ror " ? 



EDITH M. THOMAS: From Winter Solstice to Vernal 

 Equinox. 



