232 THE JONATHAN PAPERS 



it also vaguely multiplies them, so that for one 

 real occurrence we see many. It is like stand 

 ing between opposing mirrors: looking into 

 either, one sees a receding series of reflections, 

 unending as Banquo s royal line. 



Thus, once last winter Jonathan and I 

 spent a long evening reading aloud a tale of 

 the &quot; Earthly Paradise.&quot; Once last summer we 

 sat alone before the embers and quietly talked. 

 Once and only once. Yet firelit memory 

 is already laying her touch upon those hours. 

 Already, though my diary tells me they stood 

 alone, I am persuaded that they were many. 

 I look back over a retrospect of many long 

 winter evenings, in whose cozy light I see 

 again the ringed smoke of Jonathan s pipe 

 and hear again the lingering verse of the idle 

 singer s tales; a retrospect of many long sum 

 mer twilights, wherein the warmth of the 

 settling embers mingles with the sharp cool 

 ness of a summer night, and pleasant talk 

 gives place to pleasant silence. 



The apple logs have burned through and 

 rolled apart, the great backlog has settled 

 deeper and deeper into the ashes. The fire 

 whispers and murmurs, it whistles soft, low 



