The Nuptial Flight 



who approaches and smiles, the love tK-^t 

 unlocks our heart, the death or sorrow 

 that seals it, the September sky above us, 

 this superb and delightful garden, wherein 

 we see, as in Corneille's * Psyche,' bow- 

 ers of greenery resting on gilded statues, 

 and the flocks grazing yonder, with their 

 shepherd asleep, and the last houses of 

 the village, and the sea between the trees, 

 — all these are raised or degraded before 

 they enter within us, are adorned or de- 

 spoiled, in accordance with the little signal 

 this choice of ours makes to them. We 

 must learn to select from among these 

 semblances of truth. I have spent my 

 own life in eager search for the smaller 

 truths, the physical causes; and now, at 

 the end of my days, I begin to cherish, 

 not what would lead me from these, but 

 what would precede them, and, above all, 

 what would somewhat surpass them." 

 We had attained the summit of a 

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