My First Summer 



am beyond the flock, free to rove and revel 

 in the wilderness all the big immortal days. 

 Sketching on the North Dome. It com- 

 mands views of nearly all the valley besides 

 a few of the high mountains. I would fain 

 draw everything in sight, rock, tree, and 

 leaf. But little can I do beyond mere out- 

 lines, marks with meanings like words, 

 readable only to myself, yet I sharpen my 

 pencils and work on as if others might pos- 

 sibly be benefited. Whether these picture- 

 sheets are to vanish like fallen leaves or go 

 to friends like letters, matters not much ; for 

 little can they tell to those who have not 

 themselves seen similar wildness, and like a 

 language have learned it. No pain here, no 

 dull empty hours, no fear of the past, no fear 

 of the future. These blessed mountains are 

 so compactly filled with God's beauty, no 

 petty personal hope or experience has room 

 to be. Drinking this champagne water is 

 pure pleasure, so is breathing the liviitg air, 

 and every movement of limbs is pleasure, 



