OF RICHARD JEFFERIES 



is in this marvellous transformation of 

 clods and cold matter into living things 

 that the joy and the hope of summer 

 reside. Every blade of grass, each leaf, 

 each separate floret and petal, is an 

 inscription speaking of hope. Consider 

 the grasses and the oaks, the swallows, 

 the sweet blue butterfly— they are one 

 and all a sign and token showing before 

 our eyes earth made into life. So that 

 my hope becomes as broad as the 

 horizon afar, reiterated by every leaf, 

 sung on every bough, reflected in the 

 gleam of every flower. There is so 

 much for us yet to come, so much to 

 be gathered, and enjoyed. Not for you 

 or me, now, but for our race, who will 

 ultimately use this magical secret for 

 their happiness. Earth holds secrets 

 enough to give them the life of the 

 fabled Immortals. My heart is fixed 

 firm and stable in the belief that ulti- 

 mately the sunshine and the summer, 



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