66 THE LIFE OF RICHARD JEFFERIES 



breath on the air, a soft warm hand in the touch of the 

 sunshine, a glance in the gleam of the rippled waters, a 

 whisper in the dance of the shadows. The ethereal haze 

 lifted the heavy oaks, and they were buoyant on the 

 mead, the rugged bark was chastened and no longer 

 rough, each slender flower beneath them again refined. 

 There was a presence everywhere, though unseen, on the 

 open hills, and not shut out under the dark pines. Dear 

 were the June roses then, because for another gathered. 

 Yet even dearer now, with so many years, as it were, upon 

 the petals ; all the days that have been before, all the 

 heart-throbs, all our hopes lie in this opened bud. Let 

 not the eyes grow dim, look not back but forward ; the 

 soul must uphold itself like the sun. Let us labour to make 

 the heart grow larger as we become older, as the spreading 

 oak gives more shelter. That we could but take to the 

 soul some of the greatness and the beauty of the 

 summer !'* 



That is what he was doing. Love rounded his nature 

 into a romantic fulness to be expressed much later in 

 words, where Nature and human passion are as indissolubly 

 intertwined as they have been before or since, and more 

 exuberantly joyous in their union. Love reinforced his 

 ambitions, his passionate eye, his dreams, his mystic 

 moments of oneness with earth and stars and sea. Before, 

 he had seen with rich clear eyes the largeness and multi- 

 plicity of Nature ; now it was true of him as of Felise in 

 ' The Dewy Morn ' : 



' She saw the clear definition of the trees, their colour, 

 and the fineness of the extended branches — she was aware 

 of the delicate leaves ; she saw the hues of the wheat, 

 shading from pale yellow to ruddy gold ; her senses were 

 alive to the minutest difference of tint or sound ; to the 

 rustle of the squirrel touching the dry leaf, the rush of the 

 falling water, the hum of the insect wing ; keen to the 

 difference of motion, the gliding of the dots of sunlight 

 on the sward, the broad flutter of the peacock-butterfly, 



* The Life of the Fields. 



