The
very bourgeoning and blossoming about him seemed to draw light from
him, not give light. "I brought the Kelpie's Pool back with me," he
thought. He shut his eyes, leaning his head against the stone, at last
with a sideward movement burying it in his folded arms. "More
life--more! What was a great current goes sluggish and landbound.
Where again is the open sea--the more--the boundless? Where
again--where again?"
He sat for an hour by the wild, singing stream. It drenched him, the
loved place and the sweet season, with its thousand store of beauties.
Its infinite number of touches brought at last response. The vague
crying and longing of nature hushed before a present lullaby. At last
he rose and went on with the calling stream.
The narrow path, set about with living green, with the spangly
flowers, and between the branches fragments of the blue lift as clear
as glass, led down the glen, widening now to hill and dale. Softening
and widening, the world laughed in May. The stream grew broad and
tranquil, with grassy shores overhung by green boughs. Here and there
the bank extended into the flood a little grassy cape edged with
violets. Alexander, following the spiral of the path, came upon the
view of such a spot as this. It lay just before him, a little below
his road. The stream washed its fairy beach.
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