No; it had seemed to regard me with simple superior insight,
Quietly saying to herself: 'Yes, there he is still in his
fancy......
Doesn't yet see we have here just the things he is used to
elsewhere,
And that the things he likes here, elsewhere he wouldn't have
looked at;
People here, too, are people, and not as fairy-land creatures.
He is in a trance, and possessed,--I wonder how long to continue.
It is a shame and pity,--and no good likely to follow.'--
Something like this; but, indeed, I cannot the least define it.
Only, three hours thence, I was off and away in the moor-land,
Hiding myself from myself, if I could, the arrow within me.'"--p.29.
Philip Hewson has been going on
"Even as cloud passing subtly unseen from mountain to mountain,
Leaving the crest of Benmore to be palpable next on Benvohrlich,
Or like to hawk of the hill, which ranges and soars in its hunting,
Seen and unseen by turns."...... And these are his words in the
mountains:......
"'Surely the force that here sweeps me along in its violent impulse,
Surely my strength shall be in her, my help and protection about her,
Surely in inner-sweet gladness and vigor of joy shall sustain her;
Till, the brief winter o'erpast, her own true sap in the springtide
Rise, and the tree I have bared be verdurous e'en as aforetime:
Surely it may be, it should be, it must be.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129