Gradually this path of mist grows
clear as crystal, and the colours glancing in it take shape, and form a
clear, transparent picture.
A cornfield on a summer evening, filled with blossoms of poppies and
corn-flowers. A wild storm sweeps over the field; the corn is broken
down; the flowers are crushed beneath its weight, draggled and withered.
A poppy, torn up by its roots, is whirled through the air.
A mist sweeps over the crystalline cloud, and where it grows clear again
the scene is changed to a wild hill-side. Scarlet and blue flowers
intermingle in the distance; in the foreground lies a single poppy,
withered and dying. Slowly, beside it a lily grows up; as it grows the
fading poppy is stirred, touched by its leaves; and the tiny bells
waving over it inspire new life and vigour, till at length, grown whole
and fresh, it is loosened from the brown uptorn roots, and floats
upwards, to bloom more beautiful in Paradise.
Again the mist passes over the light picture and changes it. A woodland
scene is painted there now. Amid the fern and moss and twigs under the
trees, wild flowers are blowing.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25