204 A GARDEN DIARY 
dull brain wakes, and the deaf ear hears. A 
new perception of the unperceived relationship 
of things; a new perception of the invisible 
splendours lying unnoticed around us, becomes 
for the moment almost startlingly visible. Such 
hours are the only really countable ones, the 
chief solace of existence, the one clear reason, 
one is tempted to say, of our poor encumbered, 
stunted little lives. For their sakes, if for no 
other reason, it were well worth the trouble of 
being born, and of all the aches and ills that 
belong to that very singular estate; worth our 
meeting gallantly, if possible merrily, the thou- 
sand petty pinpricks, the slings and arrows of 
outrageous fortune, the occasional alienation of 
those one loves best, nay—if it must be so— 
even the fell assaults of Giant Despair and all 
his abominable brood. 
For the suggestiveness of what lies about us 
is no mere fancy, but is absolutely real ; real as 
the light upon yonder tree-tops; real as the 
sorrow in our hearts; real as the love that makes 
all things endurable; real as the death which 
puts an end to pain. At this very moment, now 
passing over my head, there is lying about me— 
close to my eyes, could I but discern it—the 
materials alike of the loftiest poetry, and of the 
most riddle-solving science. Disregarded and 
unheeded there they lie, ready alike for the 
greatest singer in his happiest mood, for the 
