moss spread a carpet on which the heaviest 

 footfall left the silence unbroken. It was a 



%L- 



place of dreams and mysteries. 



Heed the old oracles, 



Ponder my spells ; 

 Song wakes in my pinnacles 



When the wind swells. 

 Soundeth the prophetic wind, 

 The shadows shake on the rock behind, 

 And the countless leaves of the pine are strings 

 Tuned to the lay the wood-god sings. 



Hearken ! hearken ! 



If thou wouldst know the mystic song 

 Chanted when the sphere was young, 

 Aloft, abroad, the paean swells ; 

 O wise man ! hear'st thou half it tells ? 



Sitting there, with the deep peace of the 

 place sinking into the soul, the solitude was 

 full of companionship; the very silence 

 seemed to give Nature a tone more com- 

 manding, an accent more thrilling. At 

 intervals the gusts of wind reaching the 

 borders of the wood filled the air with dis- 

 tant murmurs which widened, deepened, 

 approached, until they broke into a great 

 wave of sound overhead, and then, receding, 

 died in fainter and ever fainter sounds. There 

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