the story of my heart-第2章

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eyes　to　bear　the　dazzling　light。　　Bees　buzzed　over　me；　sometimes　a　butterfly
passed；
there　was　a　hum　in　the　air；　greenfinches　sang　in　the　hedge。　　Gradually
entering　into　the　intense　life　of　the　summer　daysa　life　which　burned
around　as　if　every　grass　blade　and　leaf　were　a　torchI　came　to　feel　the
longdrawn　life　of　the　earth　back　into　the　dimmest　past；　while　the　sun　of　the
moment　was　warm　on　me。　　Sesostris　on　the　most　ancient　sands　of　the　south；in
ancient；　ancient　days；　was　conscious　of　himself　and　of　the　sun。　　This
sunlight　linked　me　through　the　ages　to　that　past　consciousness。　　From　all
the　ages　my　soul　desired　to　take　that　soul…life　which　had　flowed　through
them　as　the　sunbeams　had　continually　poured　on　earth。　　As　the　hot　sands　take
up　the　heat；　so　would　I　take　up　that　soul…energy。　　Dreamy　in　appearance；　I
was　breathing　full　of
existence；　I　was　aware　of　the　grass　blades；　the　flowers；　the　leaves　on　hawth
orn　and　tree。　　I　seemed　to　live　more　largely　through　them；　as　if　each　were　a
pore　through　which　I　drank。
The　grasshoppers　called　and　leaped；　the　greenfinches
sang；　the　blackbirds　happily　fluted；　all　the　air　hummed　with
life。　I　was　plunged　deep　in　existence；　and　with　all　that
existence　I　prayed。

Through　every　grass　blade　in　the　thousand；　thousand　grasses；
through　the　million　leaves；　veined　and　edge…cut；　on　bush　and
tree；　through　the　song…notes　and　the　marked　feathers　of　the
birds；　through　the　insects'　hum　and　the　colour　of　the　butterflies；　through
the　soft　warm　air；　the　flecks　of　clouds
dissolvingI　used　them　all　for　prayer。　　With　all　the　energy　the
sunbeams　had　poured　unwearied　on　the　earth　since　Sesostris　was
conscious　of　them　on　the　ancient　sands；　with　all　the　life　that
had　been　lived　by　vigorous　man　and　beauteous　woman　since　first
in　dearest　Greece　the　dream　of　the　gods　was　woven；　with　all　the
soul…life　that　had　flowed　a　long　stream　down　to　me；　I　prayed
that　I　might　have　a　soul　more　than　equal　to；　far　beyond　my　conception　of；
these　things　of　the　past；　the　present；　and　the　fulness　of　all　life。　　Not
only　equal　to　these；　but　beyond；　higher；　and　more　powerful　than　I　could
imagine。　　That　I　might　take　from　all　their　energy；　grandeur；　and　beauty；　and
gather　it　into　me。　That　my　soul　might　be　more　than　the　cosmos　of
life。

I　prayed　with　the　glowing　clouds　of　sun…set　and　the　soft　light　of　the　first
star　coming　through　the　violet　sky。　　At　night　with　the　stars；　according　to
the　season　：　now　with　the　Pleiades；　now　with　the　Swan　or　burning　Sirius；　and
broad　Orion's　whole
constellation；　red　Aldebaran；　Arcturus；　and　the　Northern　Crown；
with　the　morning　star；　the　lightbringer；　once　now　and　then　when
I　saw　it；　a　white…gold　ball　in　the　violet…purple　sky；　or　framed
about　with　pale　summer　vapour　floating　away　as　red　streaks　shot
horizontally　in　the　east。　　A　diffused　saffron　ascended　into
the　luminous　upper　azure。　　The　disk　of　the　sun　rose　over　the
hill；　fluctuating　with　throbs　of　light；　his　chest　heaved　in
fervour　of　brilliance。　　All　the　glory　of　the　sunrise　filled　me　with　broader
and　furnace…like　vehemence　of　prayer。　　That　I　might　have　the　deepest　of
soul…life；　the　deepest　of　all；　deeper　far　than　all　this　greatness　of　the
visible　universe　and　even　of　the　invisible；　that　I　might　have　a　fulness　of
soul　till　now　unknown；　and　utterly　beyond　my　own　conception。

In　the　deepest　darkness　of　the　night　the　same　thought　rose　in　my
mind　as　in　the　bright　light　of　noontide。　　What　is　there　which　I
have　not　used　to　strengthen　the　same　emotion？

CHAPTER　II

SOMETIMES　I　went　to　a　deep；　narrow　valleyin　the　hills；　silent　and　solitary。
The　sky　crossed　from　side　to　side；　like　a　roof　supported　on　two　walls　of
green。　　Sparrows　chirped　in　the　wheat　at　the　verge　above；　their　calls
falling　like　the　twittering　of　swallows　from　the　air。　　There　was　no　other
sound。　　The　short　grass　was　dried　grey　as　it　grew　by　the　heat；　the　sun　hung
over　the　narrow　vale　as　if　it　had　been　put　there　by　hand。　　Burning；　burning；
the　sun　glowed　on　the　sward　at　the　footof　the　slope　where　these　thoughts
burned　into　me。　　How　many；　many　years；　how　many　cycles　of　years；　how　many
bundles　ofcycles　of　years；　had　the　sun　glowed　down　thus　on　that　hollow？
Since　it　was　formed　how　long？　Since　it　was　worn　and　shaped；groove…like；　in
the　flanks　of　the　hills　by　mighty　forces　which　had　ebbed。　　Alone　with　the
sun　which　glowed　on　the　work　when　it　was　done；　I　saw　back　through　space　to
the　old　time　of　tree…ferns；　of　the　lizard
flying　through　the　air；　the　lizard…dragon　wallowing　in　sea　foam；　the
mountainous　creatures；　twice…elephantine；　feeding　on　land；　all　the　crooked
sequence　of　life。　　The　dragon…fly　which　passed　me　traced　a　continuous
descent　from　the　fly　marked　on　stone　in　those　days。　　The　immense　time　lifted
me　like　a　wave　rolling　under　a　boat；　my　mind　seemed　to　raise　itself　as　the
swell　of　the　cycles　came；　it　felt　strongwith　the　power　of　the　ages。　　With
all　thattime　and　power　I　prayed：　that　I　might　have　in　my　soul　the
intellectual　part　of　it；　theidea；　the　thought。　　Like　a　shuttle　the　mind　shot
to　and　fro　the　past　and　the　present；　in　an　instant。

Full　to　the　brim　of　the　wondrous　past；　I　felt　the　wondrous
present。　　For　the　daythe　very　moment　I　breathed；　that　second　of　time　then
in　the　valley；　was　as　marvellous；　as　grand；　as　all
that　had　gone　before。　　Now；　this　moment　was　the　wonder　and　the
glory。Now；this　moment　was　exceedingly　wonder…
ful。　Now；　this　moment　give　me　all　the
thought；　all　the　idea；　ali　the　soul　expressed　in　the　cosmos
around　me。　Give　me　still　more；　for　the　interminable　universe；
past　and　present；　is　but　earth；　give　me　the　unknown　soul；　wholly
apart　from　it；　the　soul　of　which　I　know　only　that　when　I　touch
the　ground；　when　the　sunlight　touches　my　hand；it　is　not　there。　　Therefore
the　heart　looks　into　space　to　be　away　from　earth。　　With　all　the　cycles；　and
the　sunlight　streaming　through　them；　with　all　that　is　meant　by　the　present；
I　thought　in　the　deep　vale　and　prayed。

There　was　a　secluded　spring　to　which　I　sometimes　went　to　drink
the　pure　water；　lifting　it　in　the　hollow　of　my　hand。　　Drinking
the　lucid　water；　clear　as　light　itself　in　solution；　I　absorbed
the　beauty　and　purity　of　it。　　I　drank　the　thought　of　the　element；　I　desired
soul…nature　pure　and　limpid。　　When　I　saw　the
sparkling　dew　on　the　grassa　rainbow　broken　into　dropsit　called　up　the
same　thought…prayer。　　The　stormy　wind　whose　sudden　twists　laid　the　trees　on
the　ground　woke　the　same　feeling；　my　heart　shouted　with　it。　　The　soft　summer
air　which　entered　when　I
opened　my　window　in　the　morning　breathed　the　same　sweet　desire。
At　night；　before　sleeping；　I　always　looked　out　at　the　shadowy　trees；　the
hills　looming　indistinctly　in　the　dark；　a　star　seen　between　the　drifting
clouds；　prayer　of　soul…life　always。　　I　chose　the　highest　room；　bare　and
gaunt；　because　as　I　sat　at　work　I　could　look　out　and　see　more　of　the　wide
earth；　more　of　the　dome　of　the　sky；　and　could　think　my　desire　through　these。
When　the　crescent　of　the　new　moon　shone；　all　the　old　thoughts　were　renewed。

All　the　succeeding　incidents　of　the　year　repeated　my　prayer　as
I　noted　them。　　The　first　green　leaf　on　the　hawthorn；　the　first
spike　of　meadow　grass；　the　first　song　of　the　nightingale；　the
green　ear　of　wheat。　　I　spoke　it　with　the　ear　of　wheat　as　the　sun
tinted　it　golden；　with　the　whitening　barley；　again　with　the　red　gold　spots
of　autumn　on　the　beech；　the　buff　oak　leaves；　and　the　gossamer　dew…weighted。
All　the　larks　over　the　green　corn　sang　it　for　me；　all　the　dear　swallows；　the
green　leaves　rustled　it；　the　green　brookflags　waved　it；　the　swallows　took　it
with　them　to　repeat　it　for　me　in　distant　lands。　　By　the　running　brook　I
meditated　it；　a　flash　of　sunlight　here　in　the　curve；　a　flicker　yonderon　the
ripples；　the　birds　bathing　in　the　sandy　shallow；　the　rush　of　falling　water。
As　the　brook　ran　winding　through　the
meadow；　so　one　thought　ran　winding　through　my　days。

The　sciences　I　studied　never　checked　it　for　a　moment；　nor　did　the　books　of
old　philosophy。　　The　sun　was　stronger　than　science；
the　hills　more　than　philosophy。　　Twice　circumstances　gave　me　a　brief　view　of
the　sea　then　the　passion　rose　tumultuous　as　the
waves。　　It　was　very　bitter　to　me　to　leave　the　sea。

Sometimes　I　spent　the　whole　day　walking　over　the　hills
searching　for　it；　as　if　the　labour　of　walking　would　force　it
from　the　ground。　　I　remained　in　the　woods　for　hours；　among　the
ash　sprays　and　the　fluttering　of　the　ring…doves　at　their　nests；
the　scent　of　pines　here　and　there；　dreaming　my　prayer。

My　work　was　most　uncongenial　and　useless；　but　even　then　sometimes　a
gleam　of　sunlight　on　the　wall；　the　buzz　of　a　bee　at　the　window；　would　bring
the　thought　to　me。　　Only　to　make　me　miserable；　for　it　was　a　waste　of　golden
time　while　the　rich　sunlight　streamed　on　hill　and　plain。　　There　was　a
wrenching　of　the　mind；　a　straining　of　the　mental　sinews；　I　was　forced　to　do
this；　my　mind　was　yonder。　　Weariness；　exhaustion；　nerve…illness　often
ensued。　　The　insults　which　are　showered　on　poverty；　long　struggle　of　labour；
the　heavy　pressure　of　circumstances；　the　unhappiness；　only　stayed　the
expression　of　the　feeling。　　It　was　always　there。　　Often　in　the　streets　of
London；　as　the　red　sunset　flamed　over　the　houses；　the　old　thought；　the　old
prayer；　came。

Not　only　in　grassy　fields　with　green　leaf　and　running　brook　did
this　constant　desire　find　renewal。　　More　deeply　still　with
living　human　beauty；　the　perfection　of　form；　the　simple　fact　of
form；　ravished　and　always　willravish　me　away。　　In　this　lies　the　outcome　and
end　of　all　the　loveliness　of　sunshine　and　green　leaf；　of　flowers；　pure
water；　and　sweet　air。　　This　is　embodiment　and　highest　ex…pression；　the
scattered；　uncertain；　and　designless　loveliness　of　tree　and　sunlight　brought
to　shape。　　Through　this　beauty　Iprayed　deepest　and　longest；　and　down　to　this
hour。　　The　shapethe　divine　idea　of　that　shapethe　swelling　muscle　or　the
dreamy　limb；　strong　sinew　or　curve　of　bust；　Aphrodite　or　Hercules；　it　is　the
same。　　That　I　may　have　the　soul…life；　the　soul…nature；　let　divine　beauty
bring　to　me　divine　soul。　　Swart　Nubian；　white　Greek；　delicate　Italian；
massive　Scandinavian；　in　all　the　exquisite　pleasure　the　form　gave；　and
gives；　to　me　immediately　becomes　intense　prayer。

If　I　could　have　been　in　physical　shape　like　these；　how
despicable　in　comparison　I　am；　to　be　shapely　of　form　is　so
infinitely　beyond　wealth；　power；　fame；　all　that　ambition　can　give；　that
these　are　dust　before　it。　　Unless　of　the　human　form；　no　pictures　hold　me；
the　rest　are　flat　surfaces。　　So；　too；　with
the　other　arts；　they　are　dead；　the　potters；　the　architects；
meaningless；　stony；　and　some　repellent；　like　the　cold　touch　of
porcelain。　　No　prayer　with　these。　　Only　the　human　form　in　art
could　raise　it；　and　most　in　statuary。　　I　have　seen　so　little
good　statuary；　it　is　a　regret　to　me；　still；　that　I　have　is
beyond　all　other　art。　　Fragments　here；　a　bust　yonder；　the
broken　pieces　brought　from　Greece；　copies；　plaster　casts；　a
memory　of　an　Aphrodite；　of　a　Persephone；　of　an　Apollo；　that　is
all；　but　even　drawings　of　statuary　will　raise　the　prayer。
These　statues　were　like　myself　full　of　a　thought；　for　ever
about　to　burst　forth　as　a　bud；　yet　silent　in　the　same　attitude。
Give　me　to　live　the　soul…life　they　express。