The Washington times., 1931-12-11
CHAPTER SO


hangs on the horizon. have
been i'll a long time, and when
ever the fever lessened the
troubled face of my mother
was always there. But then
came an immense wearineSs
that took away all obdurate-
ness, a waking sleep in Which
all thoughts were resolved, IL
feeble surrender to the gentle
singing of the blood and the
warmth of the sun.
The meadows are glowing
with the splendor Of late sum.
mer. Just to lie in the grasses!
The spears are higher Shan
ones face. They bend over,
they are the world; nothing is
here but gentle Swaying to the
rhythm of the wind. In places
where grass alone grows, the
wind has a soft humming note
like the sound of a distant
scythe; there where Sorrel is,
its note is deeper, more somoer.
One must be still a long time
and listen intently to hear it
Then the stiffness comes to
life. Tiny flies with black, red
spotted wings sit close side by
side on the spike Of Sorrel and
rock to and fro with the sway
ing of the stem. Bumblebees
hum like little airplanes aoove
the clover, and a ladybird, Sol!-
tary and persistent, climbs to
the topmoSt limit of a spray Ut
shepherds purse.
An ant reaches my wrist and
disappears into the tunnel OF
my coat sleeve. He is dragging
after him a piece of dry grass,
much longer than himself. I
feel the light scratching On my
skin and am unable to decide
whether it is the ant or the lIJ-
tie piece Of grass that traces
this exquisitely delicate wake ot
life down my arm, dissolvlng
every moment in little shudders.
But now the wind blows into
my sleeve, and think that the
lightest caress of love must nc
uncouth beside this breath on
the skin.
The Butterflies
Butterflies come eddying
along, given up utterly to the
wind, as though they swan
upon it, the white and golden
skiffs of the air. They alight
upon flowers, and suddenly
when next I lift my eyes. I see
two sitting still on my chest, one
life a yellow leaf with red spots,
the other outspread with violet
peacock's eyes on deep VelVeC
brown. Ribbons, decorations or
summer. l breathe very lighl!y
and slowly; even so, my breath
moves their wings-but they
stay with me. The bright sky
hangs above the grasses and a
dragon fly with whirring wings
is poised over my shoe.
White Mary's threads, cob
webs, shimmering gossamerS'
float in the air. They hang
from the stalks and the leaves,
the wind bears them along, they
catch on my hands, on my
clothes: they spread themselves
over my face, my eyes, tney
cover me up. My body, now
even my body. is passing into
the meadow. It's boundaries are
booming uncertain: it is no
longer apart, the light breaks
down it's contours and at the
edges it is beginning to be un-
sure.
Above the leather of my
shoes rises the breath Of the
grasses; into the woolen pores
Of my clothing presses the door
of the earth; through my hair
blows the moving sky, which is
wind, and the blood knocks
against the skin, it rises to
meet the incoming thing, the
nerve ends are erect and qu1v-
ering. Already I feel the but
-terfly's feet on my chest and
the tread of the ant echoes in
the concave chambers Of my
veinS-then the wave gathers
strength, grows stronger; the
last resistance has carried away
and now I am hill without
q name, grass and earth
NOiSeleSs Nature
The noiseless streams of the
earth ebb and flow and my
blood flows with them; it is
borne along with them and has
part in them all. Through the
warm dark of the earth it is
flowing with the meaning of
crystals and quartzes: it is in the
secret sound of the weight with
which drops sink down among
the roots and assemble to thin
runnelS in search Of the springs.
With them it breaks out again
from under the ground; it is
In brooks and in rivers, in the
gliStening banks, in the breadth
Of the sea and in the moist sill
yer vapor the sun draws UP
again to the clouds. It circles
and circles; it takes ever more
and more Of me with it and
empties it into the earth and
Subterranean streams; The chest
! sinks and collapses, the arms.
fall away, slowly and without
pain the body disappears: it is
gone: now only the fabric, only
the huSks remain. The body
has become the trickling of sub
terranean springs, the talk of
the grasses, moving wind, rus.
tling leaf and silent, resound.
ing sky. The meadow comes