. In the forest of Arden. priation of eternity, something we hadmissed all our lives, and, in missingit, had lost our birthright of quiet hours,calm thought, sweet fellowship, ripen-ing character? The fever and tumultof the world we had left were discordsin a strain that had never yielded itsmusic before. For nature beats in perfect tune,And rounds with rhyme her every she work in land or hide under§:round her canst not wave thy staff in air. Or dip thy paddle in the it carves the bow of beauty there. And the ripples in rhymes the oars for-sake. M ^M f
. In the forest of Arden. priation of eternity, something we hadmissed all our lives, and, in missingit, had lost our birthright of quiet hours,calm thought, sweet fellowship, ripen-ing character? The fever and tumultof the world we had left were discordsin a strain that had never yielded itsmusic before. For nature beats in perfect tune,And rounds with rhyme her every she work in land or hide under§:round her canst not wave thy staff in air. Or dip thy paddle in the it carves the bow of beauty there. And the ripples in rhymes the oars for-sake. M ^M fif^f^ Mi After one of these long, delicious idays in the heart of the pines, Rosalindslipped her hand in mine as we walked \^slowly homeward. ^J This is the first day of my life, |she said. 4?. z^^.
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Keywords: ., bookauthormabieham, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1903
