256 THE LIFE OF THE FIELDS. 



sky: a sense that wisdom does exist and may be 

 found, a hope returns that was taken away among the 

 books. The green lawn is pleasant to look at, though 

 it is mown so ruthlessly. If they would only let the 

 grass spring up, there would be a thought somewhere 

 entangled in the long blades as a dewdrop sparkles in 

 their depths. Seats should be placed here, under the 

 great columns or by the grass, so that one might enjoy 

 the sunshine after books and watch the pigeons. They 

 have no fear of the people, they come to my feet, but 

 the noise of a door heavily swinging-to in the great 

 building alarms them ; they rise and float round, and 

 return again. The sunlight casts a shadow of the 

 pigeon's head and neck upon his shoulder; he turns 

 his head, and the shadow of his beak falls on his 

 breast. Iridescent gleams of bronze and green and 

 blue play about his neck; blue predominates. His pink 

 feet step so near, the red round his eye is visible. As 

 he rises vertically, forcing his way in a straight line 

 upwards, his wings almost meet above his back and 

 again beneath the body ; they are put forth to his full 

 stroke. When his flight inclines and becomes 

 gradually horizontal, the effort is less and the wing 

 tips do not approach so closely. 



They have not laboured in mental searching as we 

 have ; they have not wasted their time looking among 

 empty straw for the grain that is not there. They have 

 been in the sunlight. Since the days of ancient Greece 

 the doves have remained in the sunshine ; we who have 

 laboured have found nothing. In the sunshine, by the 

 shady verge of woods, by the sweet waters where 

 the wild dove sips, there alone will thought be found. 



