240 OLD PLYMOUTH TRAILS 



in the chill of gray dusk to seek what honey the 

 coleuses and the coppers, the vanessas and the 

 wasp have left behind. 



The pale yellow glow of autumn twilight set- 

 tles in deep peace upon the place. You seem to 

 be at once in a vast silence and yet able to note 

 all that goes on in the world for many miles about 

 by unobtrusive sounds. To stand here in the 

 open with the night descending in blessing upon 

 you is to be in touch with the universe. In town 

 night shuts you away from the rest of the world, 

 wraps you in your own tiny seclusion. Out here 

 it makes you one with the deep secrets of com- 

 mon life. The mystical quality for the time van- 

 ishes and the radiance which long holds the sky 

 seems but the light of home, a light which is no 

 longer within a room or shut off by the walls of 

 a house, but the real home of all the world's 

 creatures to which you have come at last. 



As the glow fades and the darkness deepens 

 it seems good to lie down beneath the silent pines 

 that stretch their great arms over you in pro- 

 tecting fatherliness and become an integral part 

 of the peace of the place. Sleep that comes thus 

 is deep and refreshing. Yet always with it there 



