The Story of My Heart | Page 4

with wheat, and inclosed by
a perfect amphitheatre of green hills. Through these hills there was one
narrow groove, or pass, southwards, where the white clouds seemed to
close in the horizon. Woods hid the scattered hamlets and farmhouses,
so that I was quite alone.I was utterly alone with the sun and the earth.
Lying down on the grass, I spoke in my soul to the earth, the sun, the
air, and the distant sea far beyond sight. I thought of the earth's
firmness--I felt it bear me up: through the grassy couch there came an
influence as if I could feel the great earth speaking to me. I thought of
the wandering air--its pureness, which is its beauty; the air touched me
and gave me something of itself. I spoke to the sea: though so far, in
my mind I saw it, green at the rim of the earth and blue in deeper
ocean;I desired to have its strength, its mystery and glory. Then I
addressed the sun, desiring the soul equivalent of his light and
brilliance, his endurance and unwearied race. I turned to the blue
heaven over, gazing into its depth, inhaling its exquisite colour and
sweetness. The rich blue of the unattainable flower of the sky drew my
soul towards it, and there it rested, I for pure colour is rest of heart. By
all these I prayed; I felt an emotion of the soul beyond all definition;
prayer is a puny thing to it, and the word is a rude sign to the feeling,
but I know no other.By the blue heaven, by the rolling sun bursting
through untrodden space, a new ocean of ether every day unveiled. By
the fresh and wandering air encompassing the world; by the sea
sounding on the shore--the green sea white-flecked at the margin and
the deep ocean; by the strong earth under me. Then, returning, I prayed
by the sweet thyme, whose little flowers I touched with my hand ; by
the slender grass; by the crumble of dry chalky earth I took up and let
fall through my fingers. Touching the crumble of earth, the blade of
grass, the thyme flower, breathing the earth-encircling air, thinking of

the sea and the sky, holding out my hand for the sunbeams to touch it,
prone on the sward in token of deep reverence, thus I prayed that I
might touch to the unutterable existence infinitely higher than deity.
With all the intensity of feeling which exalted me, all the intense
communion I held with the earth, the sun and sky, the stars hidden by
the light, with the ocean--in no manner can the thrilling depth of these
feelings be written--with these I prayed, as if they were the keys of an
instrument, of an organ, with which I swelled forth the note of my soul,
redoubling my own voice by their power. The great sun burning with
light; the strong earth, dear earth; the warm sky; the pure air; the
thought of ocean; the inexpressible beauty of all filled me with a
rapture, an ecstasy, and inflatus. With this inflatus, too, I prayed. Next
to myself I came and recalled myself, my bodily existence. I held out
my hand, the sunlight gleamed on the skin and the iridescent nails; I
recalled the mystery and beauty of the flesh. I thought of the mind with
which I could see the ocean sixty miles distant, and gather to myself its
glory. I thought of my inner existence, that consciousness which is
called the soul. These, that is, myself-- I threw into the balance to
weight the prayer the heavier. My strength of body, mind and soul, I
flung into it; I but forth my strength; I wrestled and laboured, and toiled
in might of prayer. The prayer, this soul-emotion was in itself-not for
an object-it was a passion. I hid my face in the grass, I was wholly
prostrated, I lost myself in the wrestle, I was rapt and carried away.
Becoming calmer, I returned to myself and thought, reclining in rapt
thought, full of aspiration, steeped to the lips of my soul in desire. I did
not then define, or analyses, or understand this. I see now that what I
laboured for was soul-life, more soul-nature, to be exalted, to be full of
soul-learning. Finally I rose, walked half a mile or so along the summit
of the hill eastwards, to soothe myself and come to the common ways
of life again. Had any shepherd accidentally seen me lying on the turf,
he would only have thought that I was resting a few minutes; I made no
outward show. Who could have imagined the whirlwind of passion that
was going on within me as I reclined there! I was greatly exhausted