With inexpressible delight you wade out into the grassy sun-lake,
feeling yourself contained in one of Nature's most sacred chambers,
withdrawn from the sterner influences of the mountains, secure from all
intrusion, secure from yourself, free in the universal beauty. And
notwithstanding the scene is so impressively spiritual, and you seem
dissolved in it, yet everything about you is beating with warm,
terrestrial, human love and life delightfully substantial and familiar.
The resiny pines are types of health and steadfastness; the robins
feeding on the sod belong to the same species you have known since
childhood; and surely these daisies, larkspurs, and goldenrods are the
very friend-flowers of the old home garden. Bees hum as in a harvest
noon, butterflies waver above the flowers, and like them you lave in the
vital sunshine, too richly and homogeneously joy-filled to be capable of
partial thought. You are all eye, sifted through and through with light
and beauty. Sauntering along the brook that meanders silently through
the meadow from the east, special flowers call you back to
discriminating consciousness. The sod comes curving down to the water's
edge, forming bossy outswelling banks, and in some places overlapping
countersunk boulders and forming bridges.
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