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Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Walden Pond

"Dreams are the touchstones of our character."


For those who do not know me, my name is Henry David Thoreau. I was born on July 12, 1817 in my lovely state of Concord, Massachusetts. One of my first memories was of staying awake at night looking through the stars to see if I could see God behind them.(vcd.edu) I never stopped looking into nature for ultimate Truth.




No one truly understands me and my beliefs. I thought I had a confidant in Ralph Waldo Emerson. He seemed to understand me and even shared some of the same viewpoints. Soon, I discovered that I truly have no one but myself to rely on. After my girlfriend broke the engagement, the failure of my school, and my brother's death, I needed to isolate myself. I needed to find a purpose in my life. The materialistic world is no place for me. I find no purpose in this mundane lifestyle that others seem to live. For this reason, on July 4th I embarked on a self-discovery journey to Walden Pond. This is my journey, and it is here where I hope to find my true self in nature and with God as my witness.

Walden Pond-Spring

3] One attraction in coming to the woods to live was that I should have leisure and opportunity to see the Spring come in. The ice in the pond at length begins to be honeycombed, and I can set my heel in it as I walk. Fogs and rains and warmer suns are gradually melting the snow; the days have grown sensibly longer; and I see how I shall get through the winter without adding to my wood-pile, for large fires are no longer necessary. I am on the alert for the first signs of spring, to hear the chance note of some arriving bird, or the striped squirrel's chirp, for his stores must be now nearly exhausted, or see the woodchuck venture out of his winter quarters. On the 13th of March, after I had heard the bluebird, song sparrow, and red-wing, the ice was still nearly a foot thick. As the weather grew warmer it was not sensibly worn away by the water, nor broken up and floated off as in rivers, but, though it was completely melted for half a rod in width about the shore, the middle was merely honeycombed and saturated with water, so that you could put your foot through it when six inches thick; but by the next day evening, perhaps, after a warm rain followed by fog, it would have wholly disappeared, all gone off with the fog, spirited away. One year I went across the middle only five days before it disappeared entirely. In 1845 Walden was first completely open on the 1st of April; in '46, the 25th of March; in '47, the 8th of April; in '51, the 28th of March; in '52, the 18th of April; in '53, the 23d of March; in '54, about the 7th of April.



Here you are to analyze the poem of your choice: