Kalevala, or of that not less mysterious ancient The 

 Teutonic nature-god Wunsch, or of our Gaelic Summer 

 Angus Og, son of heaven and earth ; each of 

 whom has the wild -dove for his own, his 

 symbol and his mortal image. Each wove 

 grass and plants and greenness of trees out of 

 the earth and the rain, out of the sunshine and 

 the wind ; each spun flowers out of dew and 

 moonlight and the rose and saffron of dawns 

 and sunsets. Each, too, created strength in 

 the hearts of men and power in their bodies, 

 and wove beauty on the faces of women and 

 children. Each became, thus, the god of 

 happiness, of youth, of joy. And to each, 

 finally, the doves were dedicated as their sacred 

 birds, their mortal image among the illusions 

 of the world. So here we pass back, pass away 

 from the later tradition of mourning and 

 death, to the old joyousness of Spring, of 

 Spring who creates grass and plant and flower, 

 the strength of men and the beauty of women 

 and the gladness of children, Spring who turns 

 when the apple -blossom fades and lets loose 

 the doves of Summer. 



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