. Literary pilgrimages of a naturalist. in Celia Thaxtersgarden folded their two inner petals like slimhands, clasped in prayer, lifted trustfully to thesky. A little way from the garden that she loved andtended so long is Celia Thaxters grave, on aknoll to which the sky bends so gently that it seemsas if you might step off into it. Up to the smoothturf of this knoll crowd all the pasture shrubsthat she loved, sheltering it from the wind onthree sides and letting the sun smile in upon it allday long without hindrance. The sumacs comenearest as if they were the very guard of honor,but close beh
. Literary pilgrimages of a naturalist. in Celia Thaxtersgarden folded their two inner petals like slimhands, clasped in prayer, lifted trustfully to thesky. A little way from the garden that she loved andtended so long is Celia Thaxters grave, on aknoll to which the sky bends so gently that it seemsas if you might step off into it. Up to the smoothturf of this knoll crowd all the pasture shrubsthat she loved, sheltering it from the wind onthree sides and letting the sun smile in upon it allday long without hindrance. The sumacs comenearest as if they were the very guard of honor,but close behind them press the wild roses, theSt. Johns-wort, the evening primorses and eventhe shy white clover slipping in between theothers, very close to the ground, and tossing softperfumes out over the brown grass. On thegrave itself someone in loving remembrancescatters the petals of red geranium, which seemsof all things the home-loving, home-keepingflower. The poppies are for poets dreams whichwrite themselves in the dancing morning wind,. o AT THE ISLES OF SHOALS 59 clasp hands in prayer at sunset, and flutter geraniums seem born of the fireside wherehome has been since fire first came down out ofheaven. Dreams and hearthfire both were dearto the sweet lady of Appledore, and both flowerscommemorate her there. V THOREAUS WALDENA Survey of the Pond and its Surroundings He who would know Thoreaus Walden will dowell to bathe in it. His first plunge may well bein Thoreaus story of the pond and his life on itsbank, and when he comes dripping from this andputs on the garments of everyday life he still mustfeel a little of the glow of the fire with which thisalchemist of the woods transmuted all things,showing us how rough granite, hard iron and baselead are gold. Thoreau lived on the borders ofthe little clear pond but two years. He knew itin the flesh for just his short life. But his spirithad birth in something akin to its pure, pro-found waters and dwells above them now for
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booki, booksubjectnaturalhistory
