3Bi5 a MooManb Spring 



escaped when it rises out of a thought's 

 center and proves itself to be the absolute 

 expression. Even the dust-covered and 

 shelf-worn scholar must feel the difference 

 between mere word-hunting and the vig- 

 orous freedom of using the very word of 

 one's choice. A case of logolepsy is easily 

 distinguished from the perfectly sane mood 

 which demands and imperiously seizes the 

 XoYoc, the pregnant sign, and makes it the 

 exponent of a hidden power. 



I am sitting on a mossy log with an 

 open book on my knee. At my feet a 

 little spring puts forth its trickhng runnel. 

 The well is clear and strong, a voice of 

 nature which says : " Sourd, sourd, rise 

 and flow on!" Water is not aware of the 

 academies and the obsoletes; possibly this 

 is why its noise is so charming in these 

 cool places of the woods. Overhead the 

 crowded, dusky leaves shake with a sound 

 of multitudinous kissing, and one trim 

 wood-thrush goes like a shadow through 

 the bosket yonder, piping a liquid, haunt- 

 ing phrase, which wavers between the ex- 

 tremes of joy and pain. There is just 

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