SKY 13 



invited to the distance that I wonder how 

 any work is done in the top floors of the 

 sky-scrapers of New York, where the 

 clerks have only to look up from their let- 

 ters and ledgers to see the rolling country 

 of Long Island, the Orange Hills, the glit- 

 tering harbor with its islands, and the hur- 

 rying rivers. But poets ought to be made 

 in such an eyrie. 



When we look away to the horizon we 

 gladly cheat ourselves ; we let our fancies 

 wander into things that are not there. 

 Beneath those heavy cumuli must be a 

 country where the people are good and 

 wise, where there are no Reginald Mc- 

 Gonigles, where every home is a palace, 

 where speech is music, art the daily life, 

 and love instead of self-interest the cohesive 

 social force. But we go and stand under 

 those clouds ; then we discover that Uto- 

 pia is some leagues farther on, and Arcadia 

 some miles behind us. 



It is not often that we appreciate the 

 size of clouds. You may see them in 

 Colorado so much bigger than the Rocky 

 Mountains that the tallest peaks become 



