I am expecting better hours.
I smell the cornfield.
I hear the pear drop.
I see bats in the dusk
flying at the edge of the woods.
The moon is my only companion.
The cricket, the gurgling spring,
the wind rising in the trees,
all speak to me
of the steady progress
of the universe,
and I am rewarded
for mere expectation.
—Drawn from The Journal of Henry D. Thorough over four Augusts, 1851-54.
