SKY 23 



rays fall. I know that when snow flies the 

 flakes spring out of the gray emptiness in 

 the same bewildering way as in the fields, 

 and that each flake is as marvelous a crys- 

 tal as if it fell in Canada. I know that even 

 in these dull precincts the color splen- 

 dors of the clouds are as obvious as in the 

 country and as unregarded. We seldom 

 realize these colors. But put a tub of wa- 

 ter in the yard on a cloudy day, stand 

 where the sun is reflected in it, and as 

 the clouds pass watch this water mirror and 

 mark how they kindle. They do not show 

 rainbows, but delicate and shelly lusters, 

 fleeting, tender, fairy-like. You can bear 

 to see these reflections, because the whole 

 sky is not blazing into your eyes. Then, 

 the clear, open firmament : nothing is finer. 

 The winter of space is suggested, merely, 

 and glorified in the turquoise, windy skies 

 of autumn. 



It is in autumn that there is a kind of 

 glow in the air as well as in the trees. The 

 leaves seem to throw their color to the sky, 

 where it is reflected back upon the earth, 

 as the white of a polar ice-cap shines into 



