.

    It fills a few hollows,

    And makes banks for the swallows,

    It sets the sand a-blowing,

    And the blackberries a-growing,

    but I cross it like a cart-pat have my

    eyes put out and my ears spoiled by its smoke and steam and hissing.

    No tless h

    their rumbling, I am

    more alone t of ternoon, perhaps,

    my meditations are interrupted only by t rattle of a

    carriage or team along tant highway.

    Sometimes, on Sundays, I on,

    Bedford, or Concord bell, w,

    s, and, as it ural melody, ing into the

    a sufficient distance over this sound

    acquires a certain vibratory he

    rings of a  s.  All sound heard

    at test possible distance produces one and t,

    a vibration of t as tervening

    atmospant ridge of earteresting to our eyes by

    tint it imparts to it.  to me in this case a

    melody wrained, and wh

    every leaf and needle of t portion of the sound which

    ts aken up and modulated and eco

    vale.  to some extent, an original sound, and therein

    is t.  It is not merely a repetition of w

    ing in t partly the wood;

    trivial es sung by a wood-nymph.

    At evening, tant lohe horizon beyond

    t and melodious, and at first I ake

    it for tain minstrels by wimes

    serenaded, raying over  soon I was

    not unpleasantly disappointed o the cheap

    and natural music of t mean to be satirical, but to

    expre