Under the trees . iling the day while the heavens wait insilent worship, all poetry is idle and is the divinest ot all the visible processesof Nature, and the sublimest of all hermarvellous symbolism. On such a morning as this, twelve yearsago, Amiel wrote in his diary : The wholeatmosphere has a luminous serenity, a lim-pid clearness. The islands are like swansswimming in a golden stream. Peace,splendour, boundless space! . . I long tocatch the wild bird, happiness, and tame mornings impress me intoxicate me, they carry me feel beguiled out of mysel
Under the trees . iling the day while the heavens wait insilent worship, all poetry is idle and is the divinest ot all the visible processesof Nature, and the sublimest of all hermarvellous symbolism. On such a morning as this, twelve yearsago, Amiel wrote in his diary : The wholeatmosphere has a luminous serenity, a lim-pid clearness. The islands are like swansswimming in a golden stream. Peace,splendour, boundless space! . . I long tocatch the wild bird, happiness, and tame mornings impress me intoxicate me, they carry me feel beguiled out of myself, dissolved insunbeams, breezes, perfumes, and suddenimpulses of joy. And yet all the time Ipine for I know not what intangible these few words this master of poeticmeditation suggests without expressing theindescribable impression which a summercarries into every sensitive nature. Last night the world was sorrowful,worn, and dulled ; but lo! the new day hasbut touched it and all the invisible choirs133. fi&
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectnatural, bookyear1902
