As surely as the sunset in my latest November
shall translate me to the unreal world,
as surely as the last strain of music which falls on my decaying ear
shall make age to be forgotten,
or, in short, the manifold influences of nature
survive during the term of our natural life,
so surely my cock shall forever be my friend,
and reflect a ray of God to me,
and time shall foster and adorn and consecrate our Friendship,
no less than the ruins of temples.
and remind me of the ruddy morning of youth;

based on the chapter “Wednesday” in A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers by Thoreau

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