Henry David Thoreau sings praises of winter, "the wonderful purity of nature ...(when) the dead leaves of autumn, are concealed by a clean napkin of snow... A cold and searching wind drives away all contagion, and nothing can withstand it but what has a virtue in it." In spite of the cold we recognize in this early springtime that "There is a slumbering subterranean fire in nature which never goes out, and which no cold can chill." Delve into his essay on nature in winter,and feel the hope of spring.
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