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1Walden is melting apace. There is a canal two rods wide along the northerly and westerly sides, and wider still at the
2east end. A great field of ice has cracked off from the main body. I hear a song-sparrow singing from the bushes on the
3shore,--olit, olit, olit,--chip, chip, chip, che char,--che wiss, wiss, wiss. He too is helping to crack it. How
4handsome the great sweeping curves in the edge of the ice, answering somewhat to those of the shore, but more regular!
5It is unusually hard, owing to the recent severe but transient cold, and all watered or waved like a palace floor. But
6the wind slides eastward over its opaque surface in vain, till it reaches the living surface beyond. It is glorious to
7behold this ribbon of water sparkling in the sun, the bare face of the pond full of glee and youth, as if it spoke the
8joy of the fishes within it, and of the sands on its shore,--a silvery sheen as from the scales of a leuciscus, as it
9were all one active fish. Such is the contrast between winter and spring. Walden was dead and is alive again. But this
10spring it broke up more steadily, as I have said. The change from storm and winter to serene and mild weather, from dark
11and sluggish hours to bright and elastic ones, is a memorable crisis which all things proclaim. It is seemingly
12instantaneous at last. Suddenly an influx of light filled my house, though the evening was at hand, and the clouds of
13winter still overhung it, and the eaves were dripping with sleety rain. I looked out the window, and lo! where yesterday
14was cold gray ice there lay the transparent pond already calm and full of hope as in a summer evening, reflecting a
15summer evening sky in its bosom, though none was visible overhead, as if it had intelligence with some remote horizon. I
16heard a robin in the distance, the first I had heard for many a thousand years, methought, whose note I shall not forget
17for many a thousand more,--the same sweet and powerful song as of yore. O the evening robin, at the end of a New England
18summer 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
19migratorius. The pitch-pines and shrub-oaks about my house, which had so long drooped, suddenly resumed their several
20characters, looked brighter, greener, and more erect and alive, as if effectually cleansed and restored by the rain. I
21knew that it would not rain any more. You may tell by looking at any twig of the forest, ay, at your very wood-pile,
22whether its winter is past or not. As it grew darker, I was startled by the honking of geese flying low over the woods,
23like weary travellers getting in late from southern lakes, and indulging at last in unrestrained complaint and mutual
24consolation. Standing at my door, I could hear the rush of their wings; when, driving toward my house, they suddenly
25spied my light, and with hushed clamor wheeled and settled in the pond. So I came in, and shut the door, and passed my
26first spring night in the woods. In the morning I watched the geese from the door through the mist, sailing in the
27middle of the pond, fifty rods off, so large and tumultuous that Walden appeared like an artificial pond for their
28amusement. But when I stood on the shore they at once rose up with a great flapping of wings at the signal of their
29commander, and when they had got into rank circled about over my head, twenty-nine of them, and then steered straight to
30Canada, with a regular honk from the leader at intervals, trusting to break their fast in muddier pools. A "plump" of
31ducks 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
32circling, groping clangor of some solitary goose in the foggy mornings, seeking its companion, and still peopling the
33woods with the sound of a larger life than they could sustain. In April the pigeons were seen again flying express in
34small flocks, and in due time I heard the martins twittering over my clearing, though it had not seemed that the
35township contained so many that it could afford me any, and I fancied that they were peculiarly of the ancient race that
36dwelt in hollow trees ere white men came. In almost all climes the tortoise and the frog are among the precursors and
37heralds of this season, and birds fly with song and glancing plumage, and plants spring and bloom, and winds blow, to
38correct this slight oscillation of the poles and preserve the equilibrium of Nature. As every season seems best to us in
39its turn, so the coming in of spring is like the creation of Cosmos out of Chaos and the realization of the Golden
40Age.-- "Eurus ad Auroram Nabathæaque regna recessit, Persidaque, et radiis juga subdita matutinis." "The East-Wind
41withdrew to Aurora and the Nabathæan kingdom, And the Persian, and the ridges placed under the morning rays Man was
42born. Whether that Artificer of things, The origin of a better world, made him from the divine seed; Or the earth, being
43recent and lately sundered from the high Ether, retained some seeds of cognate heaven." A single gentle rain makes the
44grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten on the influx of better thoughts. We should be blessed if we lived
45in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence
46of the slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities,
47which we call doing our duty. We loiter in winter while it is already spring. In a pleasant spring morning all men's
48sins are forgiven. Such a day is a truce to vice. While such a sun holds out to burn, the vilest sinner may return.
49Through our own recovered innocence we discern the innocence of our neighbors. You may have known your neighbor
50yesterday for a thief, a drunkard, or a sensualist, and merely pitied or despised him, and despaired of the world; but
51the sun shines bright and warm this first spring morning, re-creating the world, and you meet him at some serene work,
52and see how his exhausted and debauched veins expand with still joy and bless the new day, feel the spring influence
53with the innocence of infancy, and all his faults are forgotten. There is not only an atmosphere of good will about him,
54but even a savor of holiness groping for expression, blindly and ineffectually perhaps, like a new-born instinct, and
55for a short hour the south hill-side echoes to no vulgar jest. You see some innocent fair shoots preparing to burst from
56his gnarled rind and try another year's life, tender and fresh as the youngest plant. Even he has entered into the joy
57of his Lord. Why the jailer does not leave open his prison doors,--why the judge does not dismis his case,--why the
58preacher does not dismiss his congregation! It is because they do not obey the hint which God gives them, nor accept the
59pardon which he freely offers to all. "A return to goodness produced each day in the tranquil and beneficent breath of
60the morning, causes that in respect to the love of virtue and the hatred of vice, one approaches a little the primitive
61nature of man, as the sprouts of the forest which has been felled. In like manner the evil which one does in the
62interval of a day prevents the germs of virtues which began to spring up again from developing themselves and destroys
63them. "After the germs of virtue have thus been prevented many times from developing themselves, then the beneficent
64breath of evening does not suffice to preserve them. As soon as the breath of evening does not suffice longer to
65preserve them, then the nature of man does not differ much from that of the brute. Men seeing the nature of this man
66like that of the brute, think that he has never possessed the innate faculty of reason. Are those the true and natural
67sentiments of man?"
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