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List:       lids-devel
Subject:    [Lids-devel] Riven back upon the town a zone of iron-gr
From:       Strassburg <laky () mobisol ! com ! br>
Date:       2009-08-17 12:01:55
Message-ID: BF43894A.4090208 () goodmanrosen ! ca
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of which by natural prerogative we are enfranchised. By never using our
proper freedom, we give them prescriptive licence of usurpation, so that
the hours in which the heavens are nearest to us are become the peculiar
inheritance of thieves. I confess that on the night when first I set out
to do without a bedroom I too felt all the force of the traditional
mistrust. I heard human whispers in the wind, and saw the shadows of
walls and trees as forms of men lurking to spring out against me. The
movements of roosting birds startled me as I passed; the sudden silences
startled me more. And when I had spread my gear on the ground and
settled down to rest, the sense of exposure on every side made sleep
impossible; time after time I seemed to hear footsteps stealthily
approaching; and there was a strangeness pervading everything which to
my nervous fancy was simply provocative of apparitions. This lasted many
nights; and whether I established myself on the edge of a copse, or in
the open grass, or in a hammock beneath two trees, I continued a prey to
the same uneasy wakefulness. But then, as if satisfied of good faith by
such perseverance, the night began to wear a friendly aspect, the
shadows gave up their ghosts, and the breezes became the expected
messengers of slumber. When the lonely sleeper-out has grown familiar
with the moonlight and the darkness, he is admitted into the number of
earth's favoured sons; for lying like a child upon her bosom, he hears
her heart beating in the silence, and wakes to see her smiling in her
beauty like a queen apparelled. To no man slumber comes more gently than
to him; and his uprising is as that of a child exulting in the cloudless
day. Health and innocence return to him, and his one sorrow is that he
has lived into maturity without continually partaking of these sane and
natural delights. Remorse is his that for all these years he has feared
the dews and shrunk from the bland night airs; and remembering the
needless imprisonment of a hundred chambers, he mourns over the
irrecoverable hours which would have rooted his life more deeply in
tranquillity and strength. But the June sun is up, and the birds are
singing: he strides with light step over 

["massorete.jpg" (image/jpeg)]

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