. In the forest of Arden. M from bondage to freedom. Eternity wasours, and we ceased to divide it intofragments, or to set it off into duties andwork. We lived in the consciousness ofa vast leisure; a quiet happiness tookthe place of the old anxiety to always doat the moment the thing that ought to bedone; we accepted the days as gifts ofjoy rather than as bringers of care. It was delightful to fall asleep lulledby the rustle of the leaves, and toawake, without memory of care orpressure of work, to a day that hadbrought nothing more discordant intothe Forest than the singing of rose e
. In the forest of Arden. M from bondage to freedom. Eternity wasours, and we ceased to divide it intofragments, or to set it off into duties andwork. We lived in the consciousness ofa vast leisure; a quiet happiness tookthe place of the old anxiety to always doat the moment the thing that ought to bedone; we accepted the days as gifts ofjoy rather than as bringers of care. It was delightful to fall asleep lulledby the rustle of the leaves, and toawake, without memory of care orpressure of work, to a day that hadbrought nothing more discordant intothe Forest than the singing of rose exhilarated and buoyant, andbreakfasted merrily under a great oak;sometimes we lingered far on into themorning, yielding ourselves to the spellof the early day when it no longerI proses of work and duty, but sings offreedom and ease and the strength thatmakes a play of life. Often we strayed
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Keywords: ., bookauthormabieham, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1903
