156 EVENING. 



moon is sharply reflected with inverted horns ; the 

 isthmus widens as we watch it ; we can see it grow, 

 and now the water is running out of the lakelet in a 

 rapid ; the ridges of black rock shoot across it, they, 

 unite ; — the pool is gone, and the water's edge, that 

 was just now washing the foot of this causeway on 

 which we are sitting, is now stretched from yonder 

 points, with a great breadth of shingle-beach between 

 it and us. And now the ruddy sea is bristling with 

 points and ledges of rock, that are almost filling the 

 foreground of what was just now a smooth expanse; 

 and what were little scattered islets, now look like the 

 mountain-peaks and ridges of a continent. The glow 

 of the sky is fading to a ruddy chestnut-hue ; the moon 

 and Venus are glittering brightly ; the little bats are 

 out, and are flitting, on giddy wing, to and fro along 

 the edge of the causeway, ever and anon wheeling 

 around close to our feet. The dorrs too, with hum- 

 drum flight, come one after another, and passing 

 before our faces, are visible for a moment against the 

 sky, as they shoot out to sea-ward. The moths are 

 playing round the tops of the budding trees; the 

 screaming swifts begin to disappear ; the stars are 

 coming out all over the sky, and the moon that a 

 short time before looked like a thread of silver, now 

 resembles a bright and golden bow ; and night shuts 

 up for the present the book of nature. 



'Tis spent, — this burning day of June ! 



Soft darkness o'er its latest gleams is stealing : 



The buzzing dor-hawk round and round is wheeling : — 



That solitary bird 



Is all that can be heard 



In silence deeper far than that of deepest noon ! 



Wordsworth. 



