210 NATURE IN" DOWNLAND 



brought unexpectedly and vividly before the mind, 

 compressed into a moment of time, is a profound 

 melancholy, as of a black shadow of apprehension 

 coming over the soul. But it is like a shadow on 

 the earth on a day of flying cloud and broken sun- 

 shine that is quickly gone. That teeming life of 

 yesterday has indeed vanished from our sight for 

 ever ; it is nothing now, and its place will know it 

 no more ; but extinction came not on it before the 

 seeds of the life that is to be were sown — small and 

 abundant as the rust-coloured seed of the mullein, that 

 looked like inorganic dust, and was shaken out of its 

 dead cups by the blast and scattered upon the ground. 

 Or smaller still, like the infinitesimal particles enclosed 

 within the round case of the dead fungus of the downs 

 — the devil's snuff-box of the peasant — which, when 

 trodden upon, or broken by a blow of a stick, sends 

 out a dense purple or deep yellow vapour, which floats 

 away in the wind and vanishes. The still earth is 

 full of it. Out of the matted roots of the turf and from 

 the grey soil beneath, innumerable forms of life resem- 

 bling those that have vanished will spring to light — 

 creatures of a thousand beautiful shapes, lit with bril- 

 liant colour, intense in their little lives, for ever moving 

 in a passionate, swift, fantastic dance. 



And we shall see it all again, and in seeing renew 

 the old familiar pleasure. For these innumerable 

 little lives quickly pass while ours endure. Further- 

 more, the brief life which they have is but one, and 



