Thoreau writes in his journal:
P.M.—To Gowing’s Swamp.
The purple finch still sings over the street. The sagittaria, large form, is out, roadside . . .
Thoreau writes in his journal:
P.M.—To Gowing’s Swamp.
The purple finch still sings over the street. The sagittaria, large form, is out, roadside . . .
