the spirit of place and other essays(地方的精神等)-第6章
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deaths； and more dramatic than was needed to awake the poetry of the
meditative age。
It was death as the end of the visible world and of the idle business of
lifenot death as a passage nor death as a fear or a darknessthat was the
Lady of the lyrists。 Nor was their song of the act of dying。 With this a
much later and much more trivial literature busied itself。 Those two
centuries felt with a shock that death would bring an end； and that its
equalities would make vain the differences of wit and wealth which they
took apparently more seriously than to us seems probable。 They never
wearied of the wonder。 The poetry of our day has an entirely different
emotion for death as parting。 It was not parting that the lyrists sang of； it
was the mere simplicity of death。 None of our contemporaries will take
such a subject； they have no more than the ordinary conviction of the
matter。 For the great treatment of obvious things there must evidently be
an extraordinary conviction。
But whether the chief Lady of the lyrics be this； or whether she be the
implacable Elizabethan feigned by the love…songs； she has equally passed
from before the eyes of poets。
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JULY
One has the leisure of July for perceiving all the differences of the
green of leaves。 It is no longer a difference in degrees of maturity； for all
the trees have darkened to their final tone； and stand in their differences of
character and not of mere date。 Almost all the green is grave； not sad and
not dull。 It has a darkened and a daily colour； in majestic but not obvious
harmony with dark grey skies； and might look； to inconstant eyes； as
prosaic after spring as eleven o'clock looks after the dawn。
Gravity is the wordnot solemnity as towards evening； nor menace as
at night。 The daylight trees of July are signs of common beauty； common
freshness； and a mystery familiar and abiding as night and day。 In
childhood we all have a more exalted sense of dawn and summer sunrise
than we ever fully retain or quite recover； and also a far higher sensibility
for April and April eveningsa heartache for them； which in riper years is
gradually and irretrievably consoled。
But； on the other hand； childhood has so quickly learned to find daily
things tedious； and familiar things importunate； that it has no great delight
in the mere middle of the day； and feels weariness of the summer that has
ceased to change visibly。 The poetry of mere day and of late summer
becomes perceptible to mature eyes that have long ceased to be sated；
have taken leave of weariness； and cannot now find anything in nature too
familiar； eyes which have； indeed； lost sight of the further awe of
midsummer daybreak； and no longer see so much of the past in April
twilight as they saw when they had no past； but which look freshly at the
dailiness of green summer； of early afternoon； of every sky of any form
that comes to pass； and of the darkened elms。
Not unbeloved is this serious tree； the elm； with its leaf sitting close；
unthrilled。 Its stature gives it a dark gold head when it looks alone to a
late sun。 But if one could go by all the woods； across all the old forests
that are now meadowlands set with trees； and could walk a county
gathering trees of a single kind in the mind； as one walks a garden
collecting flowers of a single kind in the hand； would not the harvest be a
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harvest of poplars？ A veritable passion for poplars is a most intelligible
passion。 The eyes do gather them； far and near； on a whole day's journey。
Not one is unperceived； even though great timber should be passed； and
hill…sides dense and deep with trees。 The fancy makes a poplar day of it。
Immediately the country looks alive with signals； for the poplars
everywhere reply to the glance。 The woods may be all various； but the
poplars are separate。
All their many kinds （and aspens； their kin； must be counted with them）
shake themselves perpetually free of the motionless forest。 It is easy to
gather them。 Glances sent into the far distance pay them a flash of
recognition of their gentle flashes； and as you journey you are suddenly
aware of them close by。 Light and the breezes are as quick as the eyes of
a poplar…lover to find the willing tree that dances to be seen。
No lurking for them； no reluctance。 One could never make for
oneself an oak day so well。 The oaks would wait to be found； and many
would be missed from the gathering。 But the poplars are alert enough for
a traveller by express； they have an alarum aloft； and do not sleep。 From
within some little grove of other trees a single poplar makes a slight sign；
or a long row of poplars suddenly sweep the wind。 They are salient
everywhere； and full of replies。 They are as fresh as streams。
It is difficult to realize a drought where there are many poplars。 And
yet their green is not rich； the coolest have a colour much mingled with a
cloud…grey。 It does but need fresh and simple eyes to recognize their
unfaded life。 When the other trees grow dark and keep still； the poplar
and the aspen do not darkenor hardlyand the deepest summer will not
find a day in which they do not keep awake。 No waters are so vigilant；
even where a lake is bare to the wind。
When Keats said of his Dian that she fastened up her hair 〃with fingers
cool as aspen leaves；〃 he knew the coolest thing in the world。 It is a
coolness of colour； as well as of a leaf which the breeze takes on both
sidesthe greenish and the greyish。 The poplar green has no glows； no
gold； it is an austere colour； as little rich as the colour of willows； and less
silvery than theirs。 The sun can hardly gild it； but he can shine between。
Poplars and aspens let the sun through with the wind。 You may have the
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sky sprinkled through them in high midsummer； when all the woods are
close。
Sending your fancy poplar…gathering； then； you ensnare wild trees；
beating with life。 No fisher's net ever took such glancing fishes； nor did
the net of a constellation's shape ever enclose more vibrating Pleiades。
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WELLS
The world at present is inclined to make sorry mysteries or
unattractive secrets of the methods and supplies of the fresh and perennial
means of life。 A very dull secret is made of water； for example； and the
plumber sets his seal upon the floods whereby we live。 They are covered；
they are carried； they are hushed； from the spring
