For, though the celestial rapture falling out of heaven seizes only upon those of tender age, and although a beauty overpowering all analysis or comparison, and putting us quite beside ourselves, we can seldom see after thirty years, yet the remembrance of these visions outlasts all other remembrances, and is a wreath of flowers on the oldest brows. In looking backward, they may find that several things which were not the charm have more reality to this groping memory than the charm itself which embalmed them. Thou art not gone being gone, where'er thou art, Thou leav'st in him thy watchful eyes, in him thy loving heart. The passion rebuilds the world for the youth. It makes all things alive and significant.
Nature grows conscious.
Every bird on the boughs of the tree sings now to his heart and soul. The notes are almost articulate. The clouds have faces as he looks on them.