. In the forest of Arden. without plan or purpose^ as the windingpaths of the Forest led us; happy andcare-free as children suddenly let loosein fairyland. We discovered moss-grown paths which led into the veryheart of the Forest, and we pressed onsilently from one green recess to anotheruntil all memory of the sunnier worldfaded out of mind. Sometimes weemerged suddenly into a wide, brilliantglade; sometimes we came into a sanc-tuary so overhung with great masses offoliage, so secluded and silent, that wetook the rude pile of moss-grown stoneswe found there as an altar to solitude,and our sti
. In the forest of Arden. without plan or purpose^ as the windingpaths of the Forest led us; happy andcare-free as children suddenly let loosein fairyland. We discovered moss-grown paths which led into the veryheart of the Forest, and we pressed onsilently from one green recess to anotheruntil all memory of the sunnier worldfaded out of mind. Sometimes weemerged suddenly into a wide, brilliantglade; sometimes we came into a sanc-tuary so overhung with great masses offoliage, so secluded and silent, that wetook the rude pile of moss-grown stoneswe found there as an altar to solitude,and our stillness became part of theuniversal worship of silence whichtouched us with a deep and beautifulsolemnity. Wherever we strayed thesame tranquil leisure enfolded us; dayfollowed day in an order unbroken andpeaceful as the unfolding of the flowersand the silent march of the stars. Time.
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Keywords: ., bookauthormabieham, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1903
