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Updated: May 9, 2025
"But see, the last day-beam Grows pale, ere it die; And the dark clouds are passing All over the sky. I hear thy light footstep, Thy fair form I see; Ah! the twilight has told thee Who watches for thee."
It was when thus reclining, after half a day's search for flowers, under the grateful shade of a pine-tree, now watching the white clouds that sent a brighter day-beam into these dark recesses, as they passed luminously overhead, and then noting the peculiar mapping of the grounds underneath the wood, diversified with mosses in swelling knolls, little islets of fern, and parterres of ginsengs and Solomon's-seals, in one of these cloisters of the forest, I was first greeted by the pensive note of the Green Warbler, as he seemed to titter in supplicatory tones, very slowly modulated, "Hear me, Saint Theresa!"
Levellier of her brother's defeat, she wept over the letter on her knees long hours. 'Me, my child, my brother! she cried more than once. She had her suspicion of the earl then, and instantly, as her loving servant had. The suspicion was now no dark light, but a clear day-beam to Madge. She adopted Kit's word of Lord Fleetwood.
The dreary night for, oh, how dreary seems its haunted waste, behind us gives place to a fresh, transparent cloudless morn. Blest, blest radiance! The day-beam even what little of it finds its way into this always dusky parlor seems part of the universal benediction, annulling evil, and rendering all goodness possible and happiness attainable. Will Judge Pyncheon now rise up from his chair?
By rains, and dews, and sunshine fed, Over the outer wall it spread; And in the day-beam waving free, It grew into a steadfast tree. Upon that solitary place, Its verdure threw adorning grace. The mating birds became its guests, And sang its praises from their nests. Wouldst know the moral of the rhyme? Behold the heavenly light! and climb. To every dungeon comes a ray Of God's interminable day.
My buzzer was clanging; a peremptory halting signal day-beam came darting up at me from below. It caught me and clung. I shouted down at it. "What's the matter?" I gave my name and number and all the details in one breath. Above everything I had no wish to be halted now. "What's the matter? I haven't done anything wrong." "The hell you haven't," the director roared. "Come down to three thousand.
Levellier of her brother's defeat, she wept over the letter on her knees long hours. 'Me, my child, my brother! she cried more than once. She had her suspicion of the earl then, and instantly, as her loving servant had. The suspicion was now no dark light, but a clear day-beam to Madge. She adopted Kit's word of Lord Fleetwood.
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