17-spring-第3节

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that　Nature　has　some　bowels；　and　there　again　is　mother　of　humanity。

This　is　the　frost　coming　out　of　the　ground；　this　is　Spring。　　It

precedes　the　green　and　flowery　spring；　as　mythology　precedes　regular

poetry。　　I　know　of　nothing　more　purgative　of　winter　fumes　and

indigestions。　　It　convinces　me　that　Earth　is　still　in　her

swaddling…clothes；　and　stretches　forth　baby　fingers　on　every　side。

Fresh　curls　spring　from　the　baldest　brow。　　There　is　nothing

inorganic。　　These　foliaceous　heaps　lie　along　the　bank　like　the　slag

of　a　furnace；　showing　that　Nature　is　〃in　full　blast〃　within。　　The

earth　is　not　a　mere　fragment　of　dead　history；　stratum　upon　stratum

like　the　leaves　of　a　book；　to　be　studied　by　geologists　and

antiquaries　chiefly；　but　living　poetry　like　the　leaves　of　a　tree；

which　precede　flowers　and　fruit　　not　a　fossil　earth；　but　a　living

earth；　compared　with　whose　great　central　life　all　animal　and

vegetable　life　is　merely　parasitic。　　Its　throes　will　heave　our

exuviae　from　their　graves。　　You　may　melt　your　metals　and　cast　them

into　the　most　beautiful　moulds　you　can；　they　will　never　excite　me

like　the　forms　which　this　molten　earth　flows　out　into。　　And　not　only

it；　but　the　institutions　upon　it　are　plastic　like　clay　in　the　hands

of　the　potter。

　　　　Ere　long；　not　only　on　these　banks；　but　on　every　hill　and　plain

and　in　every　hollow；　the　frost　comes　out　of　the　ground　like　a

dormant　quadruped　from　its　burrow；　and　seeks　the　sea　with　music；　or

migrates　to　other　climes　in　clouds。　　Thaw　with　his　gentle　persuasion

is　more　powerful　than　Thor　with　his　hammer。　　The　one　melts；　the

other　but　breaks　in　pieces。

　　　　When　the　ground　was　partially　bare　of　snow；　and　a　few　warm　days

had　dried　its　surface　somewhat；　it　was　pleasant　to　compare　the　first

tender　signs　of　the　infant　year　just　peeping　forth　with　the　stately

beauty　of　the　withered　vegetation　which　had　withstood　the

winter　　life…everlasting；　goldenrods；　pinweeds；　and　graceful　wild

grasses；　more　obvious　and　interesting　frequently　than　in　summer

even；　as　if　their　beauty　was　not　ripe　till　then；　even　cotton…grass；

cat…tails；　mulleins；　johnswort；　hard…hack；　meadow…sweet；　and　other

strong…stemmed　plants；　those　unexhausted　granaries　which　entertain

the　earliest　birds　　decent　weeds；　at　least；　which　widowed　Nature

wears。　　I　am　particularly　attracted　by　the　arching　and　sheaf…like

top　of　the　wool…grass；　it　brings　back　the　summer　to　our　winter

memories；　and　is　among　the　forms　which　art　loves　to　copy；　and　which；

in　the　vegetable　kingdom；　have　the　same　relation　to　types　already　in

the　mind　of　man　that　astronomy　has。　　It　is　an　antique　style；　older

than　Greek　or　Egyptian。　　Many　of　the　phenomena　of　Winter　are

suggestive　of　an　inexpressible　tenderness　and　fragile　delicacy。　　We

are　accustomed　to　hear　this　king　described　as　a　rude　and　boisterous

tyrant；　but　with　the　gentleness　of　a　lover　he　adorns　the　tresses　of

Summer。

　　　　At　the　approach　of　spring　the　red　squirrels　got　under　my　house；

two　at　a　time；　directly　under　my　feet　as　I　sat　reading　or　writing；

and　kept　up　the　queerest　chuckling　and　chirruping　and　vocal

pirouetting　and　gurgling　sounds　that　ever　were　heard；　and　when　I

stamped　they　only　chirruped　the　louder；　as　if　past　all　fear　and

respect　in　their　mad　pranks；　defying　humanity　to　stop　them。　　No；　you

don't　　chickaree　　chickaree。　　They　were　wholly　deaf　to　my

arguments；　or　failed　to　perceive　their　force；　and　fell　into　a　strain

of　invective　that　was　irresistible。

　　　　The　first　sparrow　of　spring！　　The　year　beginning　with　younger

hope　than　ever！　　The　faint　silvery　warblings　heard　over　the

partially　bare　and　moist　fields　from　the　bluebird；　the　song　sparrow；

and　the　red…wing；　as　if　the　last　flakes　of　winter　tinkled　as　they

fell！　　What　at　such　a　time　are　histories；　chronologies；　traditions；

and　all　written　revelations？　　The　brooks　sing　carols　and　glees　to

the　spring。　　The　marsh　hawk；　sailing　low　over　the　meadow；　is　already

seeking　the　first　slimy　life　that　awakes。　　The　sinking　sound　of

melting　snow　is　heard　in　all　dells；　and　the　ice　dissolves　apace　in

the　ponds。　　The　grass　flames　up　on　the　hillsides　like　a　spring　fire

　〃et　primitus　oritur　herba　imbribus　primoribus　evocata〃　　as　if

the　earth　sent　forth　an　inward　heat　to　greet　the　returning　sun；　not

yellow　but　green　is　the　color　of　its　flame；　　the　symbol　of

perpetual　youth；　the　grass…blade；　like　a　long　green　ribbon；　streams

from　the　sod　into　the　summer；　checked　indeed　by　the　frost；　but　anon

pushing　on　again；　lifting　its　spear　of　last　year's　hay　with　the

fresh　life　below。　　It　grows　as　steadily　as　the　rill　oozes　out　of　the

ground。　　It　is　almost　identical　with　that；　for　in　the　growing　days

of　June；　when　the　rills　are　dry；　the　grass…blades　are　their

channels；　and　from　year　to　year　the　herds　drink　at　this　perennial

green　stream；　and　the　mower　draws　from　it　betimes　their　winter

supply。　　So　our　human　life　but　dies　down　to　its　root；　and　still　puts

forth　its　green　blade　to　eternity。

　　　　Walden　is　melting　apace。　　There　is　a　canal　two　rods　wide　along

the　northerly　and　westerly　sides；　and　wider　still　at　the　east　end。

A　great　field　of　ice　has　cracked　off　from　the　main　body。　　I　hear　a

song　sparrow　singing　from　the　bushes　on　the　shore　　olit；　olit；

olit　　chip；　chip；　chip；　che　char　　che　wiss；　wiss；　wiss。　　He　too

is　helping　to　crack　it。　　How　handsome　the　great　sweeping　curves　in

the　edge　of　the　ice；　answering　somewhat　to　those　of　the　shore；　but

more　regular！　　It　is　unusually　hard；　owing　to　the　recent　severe　but

transient　cold；　and　all　watered　or　waved　like　a　palace　floor。　　But

the　wind　slides　eastward　over　its　opaque　surface　in　vain；　till　it

reaches　the　living　surface　beyond。　　It　is　glorious　to　behold　this

ribbon　of　water　sparkling　in　the　sun；　the　bare　face　of　the　pond　full

of　glee　and　youth；　as　if　it　spoke　the　joy　of　the　fishes　within　it；

and　of　the　sands　on　its　shore　　a　silvery　sheen　as　from　the　scales

of　a　leuciscus；　as　it　were　all　one　active　fish。　　Such　is　the

contrast　between　winter　and　spring。　　Walden　was　dead　and　is　alive

again。　　But　this　spring　it　broke　up　more　steadily；　as　I　have　said。

　　　　The　change　from　storm　and　winter　to　serene　and　mild　weather；

from　dark　and　sluggish　hours　to　bright　and　elastic　ones；　is　a

memorable　crisis　which　all　things　proclaim。　　It　is　seemingly

instantaneous　at　last。　　Suddenly　an　influx　of　light　filled　my　house；

though　the　evening　was　at　hand；　and　the　clouds　of　winter　still

overhung　it；　and　the　eaves　were　dripping　with　sleety　rain。　　I　looked

out　the　window；　and　lo！　where　yesterday　was　cold　gray　ice　there　lay

the　transparent　pond　already　calm　and　full　of　hope　as　in　a　summer

evening；　reflecting　a　summer　evening　sky　in　its　bosom；　though　none

was　visible　overhead；　as　if　it　had　intelligence　with　some　remote

horizon。　　I　heard　a　robin　in　the　distance；　the　first　I　had　heard　for

many　a　thousand　years；　methought；　whose　note　I　shall　not　forget　for

many　a　thousand　more　　the　same　sweet　and　powerful　song　as　of　yore。

O　the　evening　robin；　at　the　end　of　a　New　England　summer　day！　　If　I

could　ever　find　the　twig　he　sits　upon！　　I　mean　he；　I　mean　the　twig。

This　at　least　is　not　the　Turdus　migratorius。　　The　pitch　pines　and

shrub　oaks　about　my　house；　which　had　so　long　drooped；　suddenly

resumed　their　several　characters；　looked　brighter；　greener；　and　more

erect　and　alive；　as　if　effectually　cleansed　and　restored　by　the

rain。　　I　knew　that　it　would　not　rain　any　more。　　You　may　tell　by

looking　at　any　twig　of　the　forest；　ay；　at　your　very　wood…pile；

whether　its　winter　is　past　or　not。　　As　it　grew　darker；　I　was

startled　by　the　honking　of　geese　flying　low　over　the　woods；　like

weary　travellers　getting　in　late　from　Southern　lakes；　and　indulging

at　last　in　unrestrained　complaint　and　mutual　consolation。　　Standing

at　my　door；　I　could　bear　the　rush　of　their　wings；　when；　driving

toward　my　house；　they　suddenly　spied　my　light；　and　with　hushed

clamor　wheeled　and　settled　in　the　pond。　　So　I　came　in；　and　shut　the

door；　and　passed　my　first　spring　night　in　the　woods。

　　　　In　the　morning　I　watched　the　geese　from　the　door　through　the

mist；　sailing　in　the　middle　of　the　pond；　fifty　rods　off；　so　large

and　tumultuous　that　Walden　appeared　like　an　artificial　pond　for

their　amusement。　　But　when　I　stood　on　the　shore　they　at　once　rose　up

with　a　great　flapping　of　wings　at　the　signal　of　their　commander；　and

when　they　had　got　into　rank　circled　about　over　my　head；　twenty…nine

of　them；　and　then　steered　straight　to　Canada；　with　a　regular　honk

from　the　leader　at　intervals；　trusting　to　break　their　fast　in

muddier　pools。　　A　〃plump〃　of　ducks　rose　at　the　same　time　and　took

the　route　to　the　north　in　the　wake　of　their　noisier　cousins。

　　　　For　a　week　I　heard　the　circling；　groping　clangor　of　some

solitary　goose　in　the　foggy　mornings；　seeking　its　companion；　and

still　peopling　the　woods　with　the　sound　of　a　larger　life　than　they

could　sustain。　　In　April　the　pigeons　were　seen　again　flying　express

in　small　flocks；　and　in　due　time　I　heard　the　martins