The Life of the Bee 
said, “seen from here, they are beautiful. 
They are constructing that simple and yet 
so important thing, which is above all else 
the happy and almost unvarying monument 
of human life taking root—a stack of corn. 
The distance, the air of the evening, weave 
their joyous cries into a kind of song with- 
out words, which replies to the noble song 
of the leaves as they whisper over our heads, 
Above them the sky is magnificent ; and one 
almost might fancy that beneficent spirits, 
waving palm-trees of fire, had swept all the 
light towards the stack, to give the workers 
more time. And the track of the palms 
still remains in the sky. See the humble 
church by their side, overlooking and watch- 
ing them, in the midst of the rounded lime- 
trees and the grass of the homely graveyard, 
that faces its native ocean. They are fitly 
erecting their monument of life underneath 
the monuments of their dead, who made the 
same gestures, and still are with them. 
Take in the whole picture. There are no 
special, characteristic features such as we find 
in England, Provence, or Holland. It is 
the presentment, large and ordinary enough 
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