Then the
sheeny track of light in the water, dancing and rippling. Such
transformations; such pictures and poems, inimitable.
_Another_.--I am studying the stars, under advantages, as I cross
tonight. (It is late in February, and again extra clear.) High toward
the west, the Pleiades, tremulous with delicate sparkle, in the soft
heavens,--Aldebaran, leading the V-shaped Hyades--and overhead Capella
and her kids. Most majestic of all, in full display in the high south,
Orion, vast-spread, roomy, chief historian of the stage, with his
shiny yellow rosette on his shoulder, and his three kings--and a
little to the east, Sirius, calmly arrogant, most wondrous single
star. Going late ashore, (I couldn't give up the beauty, and
soothingness of the night,) as I staid around, or slowly wander'd I
heard the echoing calls of the railroad men in the West Jersey depot
yard, shifting and switching trains, engines, etc.; amid the general
silence otherways, and something in the acoustic quality of the air,
musical, emotional effects, never thought of before. I linger'd long
and long, listening to them.
_Night of March 18, '79_.--One of the calm, pleasantly cool,
exquisitely clear and cloudless, early spring nights--the atmosphere
again that rare vitreous blue-black, welcom'd by astronomers. Just at
8, evening, the scene overhead of certainly solemnest beauty, never
surpass'd. Venus nearly down in the west, of a size and lustre as if
trying to outshow herself, before departing.
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