Quem Ousa, Vence!

"Como se se pudesse matar o tempo sem lesar a eternidade" Henry Thoreau (1817 - 1862) Ano XI

19.5.07

Composição de um livro...

"It was noon in summer. The earth lay breathless in the heat, with its thousand tongues in wood and field too faint for their accustomed low, mysterious speech. The Long Island shore, white and crescented, bared its bosom like Danae to the golden embraces of the sun. In the meadows the heavy-crested grasses with nodding heads beat time to the sweet wash of waves upon the beach. Yellow spires of the golden-rod pierced the air like steeples. The tulip-tree, robed like a priest in fereal green, held up to heaven with branching arms a thousand golden chalices. Far away across the Sound lay the Connecticut shore trembling through mist, while behind me, from the green recesses of a deserted garden, the oriole poured forth his monotone of sorrow.

As I sauntered down the little path that led from the old house where I was boarding for the summer, to my favorite haunt by the sea-shore, with clouds of insects springing from the grass like a living spray at every step I took, I suddenly heard the saucy notes of that low-comedian of birds, the Bob o' Link. As I have always had a friendly feeling toward this ornithological farceur, I set to work to obtain an interview with him. I was not long in discovering his where abouts. He was sitting on the stump of a rail chattering vehemently, and as well as I understood his language, impudently; preening his feathers, cocking his head on one side, as if he had a passion for seeing Nature upside down, and shaking his wings as though he contemplated an immediate migration to the coast of Africa. About every half-minute or so he would suddenly leave his perch, and flying a little distance, flop into the long meadow-grass, whence instantly would proceed a most astounding vocal effort, after which he would reappear and resume his rail in triumph. His frequent journeys to the same spot led me to suspect that he had some private interest in that quarter - a nest, or a young bride perhaps, and that he was in fact passing his honey-moon, so I walked toward the place in which I saw him disappear last, determined to be a witness of his domestic bliss."

"Bob O'Link" (1861), Fitz James O'Brien (1828 - 1862).
[Retirado da University of Virginia Library]