Whenthegroundwaspartiallybareofsnow，andafewwarmdayshaddrieditssurfacesomewhat，itwaspleasanttocomparethefirsttendersignsoftheinfantyearjustpeepingforthwiththestatelybeautyofthewitheredvegetationwhichhadwithstoodthewinter——life-everlasting，goldenrods，pinweeds，andgracefulwildgrasses，moreobviousandinterestingfrequentlythaninsummereven，asiftheirbeautywasnotripetillthen；evencotton-grass，cat-tails，mulleins，johnswort，hard-hack，meadow-sweet，andotherstrong-stemmedplants，thoseunexhaustedgranarieswhichentertaintheearliestbirds——decentweeds，atleast，whichwidowedNaturewears。Iamparticularlyattractedbythearchingandsheaf-liketopofthewool-grass；itbringsbackthesummertoourwintermemories，andisamongtheformswhichartlovestocopy，andwhich，inthevegetablekingdom，havethesamerelationtotypesalreadyinthemindofmanthatastronomyhas。Itisanantiquestyle，olderthanGreekorEgyptian。ManyofthephenomenaofWinteraresuggestiveofaninexpressibletendernessandfragiledelicacy。Weareaccustomedtohearthiskingdescribedasarudeandboisteroustyrant；butwiththegentlenessofaloverheadornsthetressesofSummer。
　　Attheapproachofspringtheredsquirrelsgotundermyhouse，twoatatime，directlyundermyfeetasIsatreadingorwriting，andkeptupthequeerestchucklingandchirrupingandvocalpirouettingandgurglingsoundsthateverwereheard；andwhenI
　　stampedtheyonlychirrupedthelouder，asifpastallfearandrespectintheirmadpranks，defyinghumanitytostopthem。No，youdon’t——chickaree——chickaree。Theywerewhollydeaftomyarguments，orfailedtoperceivetheirforce，andfellintoastrainofinvectivethatwasirresistible。
　　Thefirstsparrowofspring！Theyearbeginningwithyoungerhopethanever！Thefaintsilverywarblingsheardoverthepartiallybareandmoistfieldsfromthebluebird，thesongsparrow，andthered-wing，asifthelastflakesofwintertinkledastheyfell！Whatatsuchatimearehistories，chronologies，traditions，andallwrittenrevelations？Thebrookssingcarolsandgleestothespring。Themarshhawk，sailinglowoverthemeadow，isalreadyseekingthefirstslimylifethatawakes。Thesinkingsoundofmeltingsnowisheardinalldells，andtheicedissolvesapaceintheponds。Thegrassflamesuponthehillsideslikeaspringfire——“etprimitusoriturherbaimbribusprimoribusevocata“——asiftheearthsentforthaninwardheattogreetthereturningsun；notyellowbutgreenisthecolorofitsflame；——thesymbolofperpetualyouth，thegrass-blade，likealonggreenribbon，streamsfromthesodintothesummer，checkedindeedbythefrost，butanonpushingonagain，liftingitsspearoflastyear’shaywiththefreshlifebelow。Itgrowsassteadilyastherilloozesoutoftheground。Itisalmostidenticalwiththat，forinthegrowingdaysofJune，whentherillsaredry，thegrass-bladesaretheirchannels，andfromyeartoyeartheherdsdrinkatthisperennialgreenstream，andthemowerdrawsfromitbetimestheirwintersupply。Soourhumanlifebutdiesdowntoitsroot，andstillputsforthitsgreenbladetoeternity。
　　Waldenismeltingapace。Thereisacanaltworodswidealongthenortherlyandwesterlysides，andwiderstillattheeastend。
　　Agreatfieldoficehascrackedofffromthemainbody。Ihearasongsparrowsingingfromthebushesontheshore——olit，olit，olit——chip，chip，chip，chechar——chewiss，wiss，wiss。Hetooishelpingtocrackit。Howhandsomethegreatsweepingcurvesintheedgeoftheice，answeringsomewhattothoseoftheshore，butmoreregular！Itisunusuallyhard，owingtotherecentseverebuttransientcold，andallwateredorwavedlikeapalacefloor。Butthewindslideseastwardoveritsopaquesurfaceinvain，tillitreachesthelivingsurfacebeyond。Itisglorioustobeholdthisribbonofwatersparklinginthesun，thebarefaceofthepondfullofgleeandyouth，asifitspokethejoyofthefisheswithinit，andofthesandsonitsshore——asilverysheenasfromthescalesofaleuciscus，asitwerealloneactivefish。Suchisthecontrastbetweenwinterandspring。Waldenwasdeadandisaliveagain。Butthisspringitbrokeupmoresteadily，asIhavesaid。
　　Thechangefromstormandwintertosereneandmildweather，fromdarkandsluggishhourstobrightandelasticones，isamemorablecrisiswhichallthingsproclaim。Itisseeminglyinstantaneousatlast。Suddenlyaninfluxoflightfilledmyhouse，thoughtheeveningwasathand，andthecloudsofwinterstilloverhungit，andtheeavesweredrippingwithsleetyrain。Ilookedoutthewindow，andlo！whereyesterdaywascoldgrayicetherelaythetransparentpondalreadycalmandfullofhopeasinasummerevening，reflectingasummereveningskyinitsbosom，thoughnonewasvisibleoverhead，asifithadintelligencewithsomeremotehorizon。Iheardarobininthedistance，thefirstIhadheardformanyathousandyears，methought，whosenoteIshallnotforgetformanyathousandmore——thesamesweetandpowerfulsongasofyore。
　　Otheeveningrobin，attheendofaNewEnglandsummerday！IfI
　　couldeverfindthetwighesitsupon！Imeanhe；Imeanthetwig。
　　ThisatleastisnottheTurdusmigratorius。Thepitchpinesandshruboaksaboutmyhouse，whichhadsolongdrooped，suddenlyresumedtheirseveralcharacters，lookedbrighter，greener，andmoreerectandalive，asifeffectuallycleansedandrestoredbytherain。Iknewthatitwouldnotrainanymore。Youmaytellbylookingatanytwigoftheforest，ay，atyourverywood-pile，whetheritswinterispastornot。Asitgrewdarker，Iwasstartledbythehonkingofgeeseflyinglowoverthewoods，likewearytravellersgettinginlatefromSouthernlakes，andindulgingatlastinunrestrainedcomplaintandmutualconsolation。Standingatmydoor，Icouldbeartherushoftheirwings；when，drivingtowardmyhouse，theysuddenlyspiedmylight，andwithhushedclamorwheeledandsettledinthepond。SoIcamein，andshutthedoor，andpassedmyfirstspringnightinthewoods。
　　InthemorningIwatchedthegeesefromthedoorthroughthemist，sailinginthemiddleofthepond，fiftyrodsoff，solargeandtumultuousthatWaldenappearedlikeanartificialpondfortheiramusement。ButwhenIstoodontheshoretheyatonceroseupwithagreatflappingofwingsatthesignaloftheircommander，andwhentheyhadgotintorankcircledaboutovermyhead，twenty-nineofthem，andthensteeredstraighttoCanada，witharegularhonkfromtheleaderatintervals，trustingtobreaktheirfastinmuddierpools。A“plump“ofducksroseatthesametimeandtooktheroutetothenorthinthewakeoftheirnoisiercousins。
　　ForaweekIheardthecircling，gropingclangorofsomesolitarygooseinthefoggymornings，seekingitscompanion，andstillpeoplingthewoodswiththesoundofalargerlifethantheycouldsustain。InAprilthepigeonswereseenagainflyingexpressinsmallflocks，andinduetimeIheardthemartinstwitteringovermyclearing，thoughithadnotseemedthatthetownshipcontainedsomanythatitcouldaffordmeany，andIfanciedthattheywerepeculiarlyoftheancientracethatdweltinhollowtreeserewhitemencame。Inalmostallclimesthetortoiseandthefrogareamongtheprecursorsandheraldsofthisseason，andbirdsflywithsongandglancingplumage，andplantsspringandbloom，andwindsblow，tocorrectthisslightoscillationofthepolesandpreservetheequilibriumofnature。
　　Aseveryseasonseemsbesttousinitsturn，sothecominginofspringislikethecreationofCosmosoutofChaosandtherealizationoftheGoldenAge——
　　“EurusadAuroramNabathaeaqueregnarecessit，Persidaque，etradiisjugasubditamatutinis。“
　　“TheEast-WindwithdrewtoAuroraandtheNabatheankingdom，AndthePersian，andtheridgesplacedunderthemorningrays。
　　Manwasborn。WhetherthatArtificerofthings，Theoriginofabetterworld，madehimfromthedivineseed；
　　Ortheearth，beingrecentandlatelysunderedfromthehighEther，retainedsomeseedsofcognateheaven。“
　　Asinglegentlerainmakesthegrassmanyshadesgreener。Soourprospectsbrightenontheinfluxofbetterthoughts。Weshouldbeblessedifwelivedinthepresentalways，andtookadvantageofeveryaccidentthatbefellus，likethegrasswhichconfessestheinfluenceoftheslightestdewthatfallsonit；anddidnotspendourtimeinatoningfortheneglectofpastopportunities，whichwecalldoingourduty。Weloiterinwinterwhileitisalreadyspring。Inapleasantspringmorningallmen’ssinsareforgiven。
　　Suchadayisatrucetovice。Whilesuchasunholdsouttoburn，thevilestsinnermayreturn。Throughourownrecoveredinnocencewediscerntheinnocenceofourneighbors。Youmayhaveknownyourneighboryesterdayforathief，adrunkard，orasensualist，andmerelypitiedordespisedhim，anddespairedoftheworld；butthesunshinesbrightandwarmthisfirstspringmorning，recreatingtheworld，andyoumeethimatsomeserenework，andseehowitisexhaustedanddebauchedveinsexpandwithstilljoyandblessthenewday，feelthespringinfluencewiththeinnocenceofinfancy，andallhisfaultsareforgotten。Thereisnotonlyanatmosphereofgoodwillabouthim，butevenasavorofholinessgropingforexpression，blindlyandineffectuallyperhaps，likeanew-borninstinct，andforashorthourthesouthhill-sideechoestonovulgarjest。Youseesomeinnocentfairshootspreparingtoburstfromhisgnarledrindandtryanotheryear’slife，tenderandfreshastheyoungestplant。EvenhehasenteredintothejoyofhisLord。Whythejailerdoesnotleaveopenhisprisondoors——whythejudgedoesnotdismishiscase——whythepreacherdoesnotdismisshiscongregation！ItisbecausetheydonotobeythehintwhichGodgivesthem，noracceptthepardonwhichhefreelyofferstoall。
　　“Areturntogoodnessproducedeachdayinthetranquilandbeneficentbreathofthemorning，causesthatinrespecttotheloveofvirtueandthehatredofvice，oneapproachesalittletheprimitivenatureofman，asthesproutsoftheforestwhichhasbeenfelled。Inlikemannertheevilwhichonedoesintheintervalofadaypreventsthegermsofvirtueswhichbegantospringupagainfromdevelopingthemselvesanddestroysthem。
　　“Afterthegermsofvirtuehavethusbeenpreventedmanytimesfromdevelopingthemselves，thenthebeneficentbreathofeveningdoesnotsufficetopreservethem。Assoonasthebreathofeveningdoesnotsufficelongertopreservethem，thenthenatureofmandoesnotdiffermuchfromthatofthebrute。Menseeingthenatureofthismanlikethatofthebrute，thinkthathehasneverpossessedtheinnatefacultyofreason。Arethosethetrueandnaturalsentimentsofman？“
　　“TheGoldenAgewasfirstcreated，whichwithoutanyavengerSpontaneouslywithoutlawcherishedfidelityandrectitude。
　　Punishmentandfearwerenot；norwerethreateningwordsreadOnsuspendedbrass；nordidthesuppliantcrowdfearThewordsoftheirjudge；butweresafewithoutanavenger。
　　NotyetthepinefelledonitsmountainshaddescendedTotheliquidwavesthatitmightseeaforeignworld，Andmortalsknewnoshoresbuttheirown。
　　Therewaseternalspring，andplacidzephyrswithwarmBlastssoothedtheflowersbornwithoutseed。“
　　Onthe29thofApril，asIwasfishingfromthebankoftheriverneartheNine-Acre-Cornerbridge，standingonthequakinggrassandwillowroots，wherethemuskratslurk，Iheardasingularrattlingsound，somewhatlikethatofthestickswhichboysplaywiththeirfingers，when，lookingup，Iobservedaveryslightandgracefulhawk，likeanighthawk，alternatelysoaringlikearippleandtumblingarodortwooverandover，showingtheundersideofitswings，whichgleamedlikeasatinribboninthesun，orlikethepearlyinsideofashell。Thissightremindedmeoffalconryandwhatnoblenessandpoetryareassociatedwiththatsport。TheMerlinitseemedtomeitmightbecalled:butIcarenotforitsname。ItwasthemostetherealflightIhadeverwitnessed。Itdidnotsimplyflutterlikeabutterfly，norsoarlikethelargerhawks，butitsportedwithproudrelianceinthefieldsofair；mountingagainandagainwithitsstrangechuckle，itrepeateditsfreeandbeautifulfall，turningoverandoverlikeakite，andthenrecoveringfromitsloftytumbling，asifithadneversetitsfootonterrafirma。Itappearedtohavenocompanionintheuniverse——
　　sportingtherealone——andtoneednonebutthemorningandtheetherwithwhichitplayed。Itwasnotlonely，butmadealltheearthlonelybeneathit。Wherewastheparentwhichhatchedit，itskindred，anditsfatherintheheavens？Thetenantoftheair，itseemedrelatedtotheearthbutbyanegghatchedsometimeinthecreviceofacrag；——orwasitsnativenestmadeintheangleofacloud，wovenoftherainbow’strimmingsandthesunsetsky，andlinedwithsomesoftmidsummerhazecaughtupfromearth？Itseyrynowsomecliffycloud。