RUNNING WATERS 



Is it because the wild -wood passion of Pan 

 still lingers in our hearts, because still in our 

 minds the voice of Syrinx floats in melancholy 

 music, the music of regret and longing, that 

 for most of us there is so potent a spell in 

 running waters ? We associate them with 

 loneliness and beauty. Beauty and solitude 

 . . . these are still the shepherd -kings of 

 the imagination, to compel our wandering 

 memories, our thoughts, our dreams. There 

 is a story of one snatched from the closing 

 hand of death, who, when asked if he had 

 been oppressed by dark confusion and terror, 

 answered that he had known no terror and no 

 confusion but only an all-embracing and in- 

 tensifying silence, till at the last, deep within 

 it as in a profound chasm, he had caught the 

 low, continuous sound of running waters. 

 That I can well believe. At the extremes of 

 life thought naturally returns to the things 



