In Arcady . >r ing with the wind in long billowsacross the fields, of softly swayingforests, of rivers flowing in quietfulness, of birds on the wing andcreatures of many kinds living theirlives in glad unison ; and of a boyshappiness in the sight and sound ofall these things. But the music upon which theyouth hung, mute and motionlessin the shadow of the pines, did notrest in the ear, nor weave its melodyout of familiar airs heard a thousandtimes in idle or busy hours ; it flowedresistless and compelling into thesecret places of the soul, and all thedeep and far harmonies of whichhe dreamed
In Arcady . >r ing with the wind in long billowsacross the fields, of softly swayingforests, of rivers flowing in quietfulness, of birds on the wing andcreatures of many kinds living theirlives in glad unison ; and of a boyshappiness in the sight and sound ofall these things. But the music upon which theyouth hung, mute and motionlessin the shadow of the pines, did notrest in the ear, nor weave its melodyout of familiar airs heard a thousandtimes in idle or busy hours ; it flowedresistless and compelling into thesecret places of the soul, and all thedeep and far harmonies of whichhe dreamed when the mystery ofthe parts blending into one infinitewhole subdued him were caught up [75] NY in it and moved together in a floodof fathomless sweetness. In thisrich harmony of the full, pulsatinglife of things the earlier song of theplay of life over the surface of theworld was but a slender rivulet lostin a wide and all-embracing far pipings of the Faun madethe merry, light-hearted music ofth
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Keywords: ., bookauthormabieham, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1903
