In Arcady . THE SICKLE OF DEMETER. N the great, open world of far-spreading fields there was asense of repose. The tidewhich had fertilised all things thatgrow and bloom and bear fruit wasbeginning to ebb, though there wasno sign of vanishing beauty on theface of the landscape. In the riotof midsummer, when the lust oflife sometimes rose to a kind ofBacchic fury of delight, there hadbeen no richer bloom of beauty onthe surface of Nature than thatwhich lay, half seen and half re-membered, on the fields in the ripeautumn afternoon. The rich love-liness that had once spread itselflike a soft veil
In Arcady . THE SICKLE OF DEMETER. N the great, open world of far-spreading fields there was asense of repose. The tidewhich had fertilised all things thatgrow and bloom and bear fruit wasbeginning to ebb, though there wasno sign of vanishing beauty on theface of the landscape. In the riotof midsummer, when the lust oflife sometimes rose to a kind ofBacchic fury of delight, there hadbeen no richer bloom of beauty onthe surface of Nature than thatwhich lay, half seen and half re-membered, on the fields in the ripeautumn afternoon. The rich love-liness that had once spread itselflike a soft veil over all things had [87] SV°\
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Keywords: ., bookauthormabieham, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1903
