My First Summer 



like six-inch miniatures exquisitely out- 

 lined on the satiny sky. Average cloudiness 

 for the day about .25. No rain. And so this 

 memorable month ends, a stream of beauty 

 unmeasured, no more to be sectioned off 

 by almanac arithmetic than sun-radiance 

 or the currents of seas and rivers a peace- 

 ful, joyful stream of beauty. Every morning, 

 arising from the death of sleep, the happy 

 plants and all our fellow animal creatures 

 great and small, and even the rocks, seemed 

 to be shouting, "Awake, awake, rejoice, 

 rejoice, come love us and join in our song. 

 Come! Come!' Looking back through the 

 stillness and romantic enchanting beauty and 

 peace of the camp grove, this June seems 

 the greatest of all the months of my life, 

 the most truly, divinely free, boundless like 

 eternity, immortal. Everything in it seems 

 equally divine one smooth, pure, wild 

 glow of Heaven's love, never to be blotted 

 or blurred by anything past or to come. 

 "July i. Summer is ripe. Flocks of seeds 



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