The Nuptial Flight 



who approaches and smiles, the love that 

 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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