Sophia Thoreau later recalls this time at Walden Pond:
Associations have rendered the spot so entirely sacred to me, that the music and dancing, swinging and tilting seemed like profanity almost. An overwhelming sense of my great loss saddened me, and I felt that only the waters sympathized in my bereavement, for there seemed in all that throng no heart nor eye to appreciate the purity and beauty of nature. The lover of Walden has indeed departed. I recalled my last day spent there with Henry —
“Sweet September Day, so calm, so cool, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky.”
While I sat sketching, Henry gathered grapes from a vine, dropping its fruit into the clear waters which gently laved its roots.
