The Divine Adventure etc. (Works vol. 4)

cate green, and blue, and gold. The spires of the grasses were washed in dew; t

the stream where it lapsed through grav

re waters against the long reaches of yellow-poppied sand, and to the bases of the great cliffs, whose schist shone like chryso

n-ash, floated hitherward and thitherward on the idle breath of the wind, sunwarm when it came across the sea-pinks and thyme-set grass, cool and fresh when it eddied from the fern-coverts

slept, but, after his playing in

mrade. In sleep the Will more resembled him, as when awake he the more resembled the Bo

foreign to each? The Body feared him. As for himself, he, too, feared him at times. There were moments when all his marvellous background of the immo

e Will awoke, and s

ting, but answe

the mortal substance of our brother, the Body. But yet not without material substance. May it

ate

m the body, sheathe itself in a like shape, and habit itself with free spaces of air, so that it may breathe, and liv

that sea-change leave the

come forth one a

e Mind be an ind

ind be one and

elieve

tial? You, yourself, below

ot what y

an home we both love and hate, that moving tent of the Illimitable, which at birth appears a speck on sands of the Illimitable, and at death again abruptly disappears. You were wondering this. But,

rit. I am

ou are

, I

t a breath; or in me, the Will, who am but a condition; or in our brother

ence I came, thith

bre

may

u shall

s;

be you must have form, even

human formula for

Form i

ms to me, O Will: to put upon m

to lift it

the B

ou leave him

ree Companions of Night: Laughter, and

nd the Grave. He has his portion. Perhaps he

his dream wi

it, in the silence

playing-you

hea

sleep or wake

it often. I heard, too, my o

was th

hi

lences of

d all day a

ing mul

Wind in

named

I am

d often I

ener I

of the d

his mul

en you had he

t of which came moonlight; and a star fell slowly through the dark, and as it passe

ed you, did I wh

: 'I am the Fo

as the Breath of God, and yo

Love,-that is the Breath of God, a

window to the bed, and sto

that passeth understanding. And can it be that to you, to whom t

our lovely sophistries. See, it is already late, and we have

milk and new bread, left the inn, and went, each co

he Little Children of the Wind"-a song that some one had made, complete in its incompleteness, as a wind-blown bloss

ittle childr

tary in lon

t seen th

n the leaves e

emulous leave

looked at

heard the Wind,