Sultry with perfume,
with ample and flowing garment. With sunburnt visage, intense soul and
glittering eyes. Always the East--old, how incalculably old! And yet
here the same--ours yet, fresh as a rose, to every morning, every life,
to-day--and always will be.
_Sept. 17_. Another presentation--same theme--just before sunrise
again, (a favorite hour with me.) The clear gray sky, a faint glow
in the dull liver-color of the east, the cool fresh odor and the
moisture--the cattle and horses off there grazing in the fields--the
star Venus again, two hours high. For sounds, the chirping of crickets
in the grass, the clarion of chanticleer, and the distant cawing of an
early crow. Quietly over the dense fringe of cedars and pines rises
that dazzling, red, transparent disk of flame, and the low sheets of
white vapor roll and roll into dissolution.
THE MOON.--_May 18_.--I went to bed early last night, but found myself
waked shortly after 12, and, turning awhile, sleepless and mentally
feverish, I rose, dress'd myself, sallied forth and walk'd down the
lane. The full moon, some three or four hours up--a sprinkle of light
and less-light clouds just lazily moving--Jupiter an hour high in
the east, and here and there throughout the heavens a random star
appearing and disappearing. So beautifully veiled and varied--the air,
with that early-summer perfume, not at all damp or raw--at times
Luna languidly emerging in richest brightness for minutes, and then
partially envelop'd again.
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