(More excerpts from Autumnal Tints and Thoreau's October Journal entries)
How pleasant to walk over beds of these fresh, crisp, and rustling fallen leaves, --
young hyson, green tea, clean, crisp and wholesome!
How beautiful they go to their graves!
For beautiful variety no crop can be compared with this.
Here is not merely the plain yellow of the grains, but nearly all the colors that we know…
The ground is all party-colored with them.
But they still live in the soil, whose fertility and bulk they increase,