THE GRAND CANON 



rocks and hearts alike, awake and sing the 

 new-old song of creation. All the massy head- 

 lands and salient angles of the walls, and the 

 multitudinous temples and palaces, seem to 

 catch the light at once, and cast thick black 

 shadows athwart hollow and gorge, bringing 

 out details as well as the main massive fea- 

 tures of the architecture; while all the rocks, 

 as if wild with life, throb and quiver and glow 

 in the glorious sunburst, rejoicing. Every 

 rock temple then becomes a temple of music; 

 every spire and pinnacle an angel of light and 

 song, shouting color hallelujahs. 



As the day draws to a close, shadows, won- 

 drous, black, and thick, like those of the morn- 

 ing, fill up the wall hollows, while the glowing 

 rocks, their rough angles burned off, seem soft 

 and hot to the heart as they stand submerged 

 in purple haze, which now fills the canon like 

 a sea. Still deeper, richer, more divine grow 

 the great walls and temples, until in the su- 

 preme flaming glory of sunset the whole canon 

 is transfigured, as if all the life and light of 

 centuries of sunshine stored up and condensed 

 in the rocks was now being poured forth as 

 from one glorious fountain, flooding both 

 earth and sky. 



Strange to say, in the full white effulgence 

 of the midday hours the bright colors grow 



