Capitolo 6
But it was never such an usurious man, he doesn't lend a seed in winter
for a song in summer? He refuses to invest his/her old crumbs in
an orchestra of divine tools and a choir of paradisiacal bawls?
And to-day, also that I have ordered from a room of the child-man more trees of holly,
juniper and fir, since the storm-beaten cedars will have to come
down. For in Kentucky, when the forest is naked, and every bush
and hedge-line naked, what would become of our birds in the universal one
the rigidity and exposure of the world if there were no evergreens--nature
hostels for the without house? Living in the depths of these,
they can hold snow, ice and wind to bay; curious eyes cannot look
them, neither hostile they draw so well near; cones or seed or berries are
their shop; and in this not stamped on it lodges each you/he/she can have the
sacred society of his/her consort. But here wintering has terrible risks
what little run. Hardly in autumn has the leaves started to leave to fall
you give them Persian fish tall silently descending when the birds start
you allow to silently fall away toward south from the naked branches. Here! of the morning
the leaves are on the earth, and the birds are enfeebled. The
kind that he/she remains, or that comes then to us, hands the colors of
the season, and it melts in the tone of I break down him/it of Nature--the blues,
grey, it makes brown, with white's touches on tail and breast and wing
for next spots of snow.
The safe ones only--extraneous proud, solitary in our hostile earth--the
ardent grosbeak. Nature in Kentucky doesn't have winter harmonies for him.
He could only find these among the locks of the sumac of October, or
in the gum-tree when it sustains a pillar of fire of red twilight in
the dark woods of November, or in the distant depth of the sunset of crimson
skies, where, indeed, he seems to the nest to have been done, and from where to
you/he/she has come as a messenger of the beauty, while being born on his/her wings the light
of his/her house of diviner.