EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. Ill 
within call, — the angel of the spring! Fair 
and innocent, yet the offspring of the earth. 
The color of the sky, above , and of the subsoil, 
beneath , suggesting what sweet and innocent 
melody, terrestrial melody, may have its birth¬ 
place between the sky and the ground. 
March 11, 1842. We can only live healthily 
the life the gods assign us. I must receive my 
life as passively as the willow leaf that flutters 
over the brook. I must not be for myself, but 
God’s work, and that is always good. I will 
wait the breezes patiently, and grow as they 
shall determine. My fate cannot but be grand 
so. We may live the life of a plant or an ani¬ 
mal without living an animal life. This con¬ 
stant and universal content of the animal comes 
of resting quietly in God’s palm. I feel as if I 
could at any time resign my life and the re¬ 
sponsibility into God’s hands, and become as 
innocent and free from care as a plant or stone. 
My life! my life! why will you linger? Are 
the years short and the months of no account? 
.... Can God afford that I should forget him ? 
Is he so indifferent to my career ? Can heaven 
be postponed with no more ado? Why were 
my ears given to hear those everlasting strains 
which haunt my life, and yet to be profaned 
by these perpetual dull sounds? .... Why, 
God, did you include me in your great scheme ? 
