IReturn to IRature 



But his allusion was not directed partic- 

 ularly to what has so often held my ima- 

 gination suspended between a bird-note 

 and a wonderful word or sentence echoing 

 back through purple centuries. Not the 

 obvious meaning, but the absolute inner 

 thrill engendered by a turn of diction, is 

 the thing; and such a thrill the wood- 

 thrush can send through me with his song. 



The other day I was under a maple-tree 

 in a wild little dell not far from the center 

 of Indiana, listening to a cat-bird's song 

 and at the same time making the following 

 note on a page of my Greek anthology : 



What about F. W. Bourdillon's verses : 



" The night has a thousand eyes, 



And the heart but one." 



I wonder if the poet had ever heard Plato's Hnes : 



ohpavoq, io<; koIXoZc, o/x|xaatv tlq, oe ^Xskoj." 



O my star, at the stars thou gazest ; would that 

 I were the sky, that I might look upon thee with 

 many eyes. 



It was no plagiarism, even if Mr. Bour- 

 dillon had Plato's very words in mind ; for 

 179 



