<自然> 走入孤独，远离书斋，如同远离社会一样重要。纵然无人在我身旁，当我读书或写作时，并非独处一隅。如果一个人渴望独处，就请他注目于星辰吧。那从天界下行的光芒，使人们得以出离可触摸的现世。可以这样说，我们假想，大气之所以透明，就是为了让人们看到天国的灿烂光芒。从普通城市的街道向上看，它们是如此深邃伟岸。假如星辰千年一现，人类关于上帝之城的记忆，必将世代相传，为人们长久地信仰着，珍存着，崇拜着。然而，每一晚，这些美的使者都会降临，以它们无可置疑的微笑，照亮宇宙。 星辰唤醒心中的景仰，即使它们常在，也遥远而不可触摸；而当思想敞开心门，自然景物总会留下熟稔而亲切的印迹。 自然永无恶意可憎的容颜。如同大智慧者不会因穷尽自然的和谐底蕴而失去对她的好奇之心。自然之于智慧的心灵绝非玩具。 花朵，动物，群山，它们折射着智者思维的灵光，如同它们娱乐了他纯真的童年。当我们这样谈论自然时，我们的心灵感觉，清晰独特，诗意盎然。我们在感觉着多面的自然客体和谐完整的映像。正是这映像区分了伐木工手中的圆木与诗人心中的树木。 今晨我看到那令人愉悦的风景，它们无疑是由二十到三十个农场组成。 米勒拥有这片地，洛克有那片，而曼宁是那片树林的主人。 但是他们都不能占有这片风景。只有诗人的双眼可以拥有这地平线，这是他们农场中最可贵的，却无人能凭产权而据为己有。说真话，成年人难得看到自然本身。多数人看不到太阳，至少，他们所见只是浮光略影。阳光只照亮了成人的双眼所见，却照进儿童的眼睛和心灵深处。自然的热爱者，内向和外向的感觉尚能和谐的相应，他尚能在成年时保有婴儿的心灵。与天地的交汇成为必需，就如每日的食物一样。自然当前时，奔腾的喜悦传便他全身，尽管可能他正身处现实的苦境。他是我的造物，抿灭他无关紧要的悲伤，与我同在他应欢悦，自然向他如是说。不仅阳光和夏天带来欢跃，四季的每一时分都奉献出愉悦；自然变化的每一时晨无不如是。 从懊热的午后到漆黑的子夜，四季早晚的嬗变对应并验证着人们不同的精神状态。自然既可是悲剧的，也可以是喜剧的背景。身体康健时，空气就是让人难以置信的补剂甜酿。越过空旷的公地，停留深雪潭边，注目晨昏曦微光芒，在满布乌云的天空下，并非出于特别的当头好运，我享受了完美无缺的欣喜。我欣喜以至有些胆怯。在树林里也是一样，人们抖落岁月如蛇脱旧皮，无论身处生命的哪一阶段，都会心如孩童。 在森林中，有永恒的青春。在上帝的庄园里， 气派和圣洁是主宰，四季的庆典准备就绪，客人们居此千年也不会厌倦。在森林里，我们回归理性和信仰，在那里，任何不幸不会降临于我的生命，没有任何屈辱和灾病-请留下我的双眼-是自然无法平复的。站在空旷大地之上，我的头脑沐浴于欢欣大气并升腾于无限空间，一切卑劣的自高自大和自我中心消失无踪。我变成一个透明的眼球，我化为乌有，我却遍览一切；宇宙精神的湍流环绕激荡着我。我成为上帝的一部分，我是他的微粒。密友的名字听起来陌生而无足轻重，兄弟，朋友，主人或仆从，这一切变得细碎而搅扰。我是不受拘束永恒不朽自然之美的情人。与街市和村庄相比，在旷野里，我体味到更亲切更可贵的实在。在静谧的风景里，尤其是在那遥远的地平线，我们看到自然美丽有如我们美丽自身和本性。 田野和树林带给我们心灵的巨大欢悦，指说着人类和植物的隐密关连。我并非独在而不受关注，植物向我颔首，我向它们点头。风雨中树枝摇动对我是既新鲜又熟稔。它令我惊异又让我安然。它们对于我的影响，就如同我确信自我思维妥贴所为正当时，全身涌起的超越而高尚的感情。 然而，可以肯定地说，这欢悦的力量不仅源于自然本身，它存在于人，或者说，存在于自然和人的和谐中。要谨慎节制地享有这种欢悦，这很重要。自然并不总悦人以节日盛装，昨日氤氲芬芳晶亮悦目一如为林仙嬉乐而设的同一景致，今天就可能蒙上悲伤的面纱。自然总是折射着观者的精神状态。对于在病痛中挣扎的人，他自身散发的焦虑挣扎就涵容着悲伤。当爱友逝去时，人们会对那风景感到些许漠然。当蓝天落幕于社会底层者眼前，它的壮丽也会减色。
原文：
Nature To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write, though nobody is with me. But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds, will separate between him and what he touches. One might think the atmosphere was made transparent with this design, to give man, in the heavenly bodies, the perpetual presence of the sublime. Seen in the streets of cities, how great they are! If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile. The stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present, they are inaccessible; but all natural objects make a kindred impression, when the mind is open to their influence. Nature never wears a mean appearance. Neither does the wisest man extort her secret, and lose his curiosity by finding out all her perfection. Nature never became a toy to a wise spirit. The flowers, the animals, the mountains, reflected the wisdom of his best hour, as much as they had delighted the simplicity of his childhood. When we speak of nature in this manner, we have a distinct but most poetical sense in the mind. We mean the integrity of impression made by manifold natural objects. It is this which distinguishes the stick of timber of the wood-cutter, from the tree of the poet. The charming landscape which I saw this morning, is indubitably made up of some twenty or thirty farms. Miller owns this field, Locke that, and Manning the woodland beyond. But none of them owns the landscape. There is a property in the horizon which no man has but he whose eye can integrate all the parts, that is, the poet. This is the best part of these men\'s farms, yet to this their warranty-deeds give no title. To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. Nature says, — he is my creature, and maugre all his impertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me. Not the sun or the summer alone, but every hour and season yields its tribute of delight; for every hour and change corresponds to and authorizes a different state of the mind, from breathless noon to grimmest midnight. Nature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece. In good health, the air is a cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear. In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, — no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground, — my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, — all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental: to be brothers, to be acquaintances, — master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance. I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty. In the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate than in streets or villages. In the tranquil landscape, and especially in the distant line of the horizon, man beholds somewhat as beautiful as his own nature. The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister, is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me, and I to them. The waving of the boughs in the storm, is new to me and old. It takes me by surprise, and yet is not unknown. Its effect is like that of a higher thought or a better emotion coming over me, when I deemed I was thinking justly or doing right. Yet it is certain that the power to produce this delight, does not reside in nature, but in man, or in a harmony of both. It is necessary to use these pleasures with great temperance. For, nature is not always tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterday breathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs, is overspread with melancholy today. Nature always wears the colors of the spirit. To a man laboring under calamity, the heat of his own fire hath sadness in it. Then, there is a kind of contempt of the landscape felt by him who has just lost by death a dear friend. The sky is less grand as it shuts down over less worth in the population. .
