92 
WALDEN. 
venience, putting the experience of two years into one. 
As I have said, I do not propose to write an ode to de¬ 
jection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morn¬ 
ing, standing on his roost, if only to wake my neigh¬ 
bors up. 
When first I took up my abode in the woods, that is, 
began to spend my nights as well as days there, which, 
by accident, was on Independence day, or the fourth of 
July, 1845, my house was not finished for winter, but 
was merely a defence against the rain, without plaster¬ 
ing or chimney, the walls being of rough weather-stained 
boards, with wide chinks, which made it cool at night. 
The upright white hewn studs and freshly planed door 
and window casings gave it a clean and airy look, espe¬ 
cially in the morning, when its timbers were saturated 
with dew, so that I fancied that by noon some sweet 
gum would exude from them. To my imagination it 
retained throughout the day more or less of this auro¬ 
ral character, reminding me of a certain house on a 
mountain which I had visited the year before. This 
was an airy and unplastered cabin, fit to entertain a 
travelling god, and where a goddess might trail her gar¬ 
ments. The winds which passed over my dwelling 
were such as sweep over the ridges of mountains, 
bearing the broken strains, or celestial parts only, of ter¬ 
restrial music. The morning wind forever blows, the 
poem of creation is uninterrupted ; but few are the ears 
that hear it. Olympus is but the outside of the earth 
every where. 
The only house I had been the owner of before, if I 
except a boat, was a tent, which I used occasionally 
when making excursions in the summer, and this is still 
rolled up in my garret; but the boat, after passing from 
