Wilyem Clark
10-02-2015, 10:35 AM
Solitude does not require silence to enhance it;
A certain sort of hubbub complements it,
Raises simple selfhood to a holy stature.
Man cannot supply it; his noises seldom lull,
They distract and interfere.
Nature's crepitators are reduced
To crickets, English sparrows, and the rain.
Where are our whippoorwills and bullfrogs,
Our hoot-owls, creaks of pines, and evening peepers?
At times the air conducts the noontide bell,
The mourning-calls of trains by Roaches Run;
Those, too, were Walden-sounds, but now so rare
They make us doubt our ears and stimulate a scare.
A certain sort of hubbub complements it,
Raises simple selfhood to a holy stature.
Man cannot supply it; his noises seldom lull,
They distract and interfere.
Nature's crepitators are reduced
To crickets, English sparrows, and the rain.
Where are our whippoorwills and bullfrogs,
Our hoot-owls, creaks of pines, and evening peepers?
At times the air conducts the noontide bell,
The mourning-calls of trains by Roaches Run;
Those, too, were Walden-sounds, but now so rare
They make us doubt our ears and stimulate a scare.