3 2 UNDER THE TREES. 



rounded skies ; it is a vision painted by an unseen 

 hand against a background of mystery. Dead, 

 cold, unchangeable as I see it in the glimpses of a 

 single hour, it becomes warm, vital, forever chang 

 ing as I gaze upon it from the outlook of the cen 

 turies. It is the momentary creation of forces that 

 stream through it in endless ebb and flow, that are 

 to-day touching the sky with elusive splendor, and 

 to-morrow springing in changeful loveliness from 

 the depths of earth. The continents are trans 

 formed into the seas that encircle them ; the seas 

 rise into the skies that overarch them ; the skies 

 mingle with the earth, and send back from the up 

 lifted faces of flowers greetings to the stars they 

 have deserted. Mountains rise and sink in the 

 sublime rhythm to which the movement of the uni 

 verse is set ; that song without words still audible 

 in the sacred hour when the morning stars an 

 nounce the day, and the birds match their tiny 

 melodies with the universal harmony. 



In the unbroken vision of the centuries all things 

 are plastic and in motion ; a divine energy surges 

 through all ; substantial for a moment here as a 

 rock, fragile and vanishing there as a flower ; but 

 everywhere the same, and always sweeping onward 

 through its illimitable channel to its appointed end. 

 It is this vital tide on which the universe gleams 

 and floats like a mirage of immutability ; never the 

 same for a single moment to the soul that contem 

 plates it : a new creation each hour and to every 



