In Arcady . s of impatience inthe great, silent theatre, as if thefirst lines had been already delayedtoo long. The sky and the earthwere getting more intimate everyhour; secret forces, mysterious in-fluences, were moving in the depthsof air, and over the surface of theworld there played a subtle andelusive softness, the first faintbreath of summer, the softest sighof returning life. Last years leaves lay dull red inthe hollow between the low hills,and the black trunks of oaks madethe light, slender clusters of whitebirches stand out with bright dis-tinctness on the slopes. The greenon the bir
In Arcady . s of impatience inthe great, silent theatre, as if thefirst lines had been already delayedtoo long. The sky and the earthwere getting more intimate everyhour; secret forces, mysterious in-fluences, were moving in the depthsof air, and over the surface of theworld there played a subtle andelusive softness, the first faintbreath of summer, the softest sighof returning life. Last years leaves lay dull red inthe hollow between the low hills,and the black trunks of oaks madethe light, slender clusters of whitebirches stand out with bright dis-tinctness on the slopes. The greenon the birches was so delicate that, m [17] rP m^ w*\ BJ^ n m& mm |ffe TjtlSILai^ Ray* ^ up Bllii51i f^J-, looking from a little distance, itseemed more like a shading thana colour; but the clean blue ofthe sky, blurred at times by slowlypassing clouds dark with rain, orof such whiteness that they seemedto be erasing every trace of themomentary blackness, confirmedthe faint evidence that springhad come. ir \i [18]. II
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Keywords: ., bookauthormabieham, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1903
