Another broad
cloud-shadow, and another warm embrace of sunlight. All the serried ranks
of the green corn bow at the word of command as the wind rushes over
them.
There is largeness and freedom here. Broad as the down and free as the
wind, the thought can roam high over the narrow roofs in the vale. Nature
has affixed no bounds to thought. All the palings, and walls, and crooked
fences deep down yonder are artificial. The fetters and traditions, the
routine, the dull roundabout which deadens the spirit like the cold moist
earth, are the merest nothings. Here it is easy with the physical eye to
look over the highest roof. The moment the eye of the mind is filled with
the beauty of things natural an equal freedom and width of view come to
it. Step aside from the trodden footpath of personal experience, throwing
away the petty cynicism born of petty hopes disappointed. Step out upon
the broad down beside the green corn, and let its freshness become part
of life.
The wind passes, and it bends--let the wind, too, pass over the spirit.
From the cloud-shadow it emerges to the sunshine--let the heart come out
from the shadow of roofs to the open glow of the sky. High above, the
songs of the larks fall as rain--receive it with open hands.
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