Chapter XVI 



A SUMMER MORNING 



DO not understand how 

 any one who has watched 

 the breaking of a summer 

 day can question the 

 noblest faiths of man. Wil- 

 liam Blake, with that integrity 

 of insight which is often the possession of 

 the true mystic, declared that when he was 

 asked if he saw anything more in a sunset 

 than a round disk of fire, he could only 

 answer that he saw an innumerable com- 

 pany of the heavenly host crying " Holy, 

 Holy, Holy Lord God Almighty ! " The 

 birth of a day is a diviner miracle even 

 than its death. They were true poets who 

 wrote the old Vedic hymns and sang those 

 wonderful adorations when the last stars 

 were fading in the splendour of the dawn. 

 Beside the glory of the sun's announcement 

 all royal progresses are tawdry and mean ; 

 beside the beauty of the dawn, slowly un- 

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