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Updated: April 30, 2025
"Yes," muttered Jon, "life's beastly short. One wants to live forever, and know everything." "And love everybody?" "No," cried Jon; "I only want to love once you." "Indeed! You're coming on! Oh! Look! There's the chalk-pit; we can't be very far now. Let's run." Jon followed, wondering fearfully if he had offended her. The chalk-pit was full of sunshine and the murmuration of bees.
And the fantastic thought sprang into my mind: I have died. This is the voyage of my soul in the wild. I am in the final wilderness of spirits lost in the ghost robe that wraps the earth. There seemed in all this white murmuration to be millions of tiny hands stretching out to me, millions of whispering voices, of wistful eyes.
There was no sound in the deep lanes, none of that sweet, overhead sighing of yesterday at the same hour, but there was a quality of silence a dumb mist murmuration.
And if He find in your most noble heart such an obedience unto his will, that your Grace, without murmuration and over-much heaviness, do accept all adversities, not less thanking Him than when all things succeed after your Grace's will and pleasure, then I suppose your Grace did never thing more acceptable unto Him since your first governance of this your realm.
"Yes," muttered Jon, "life's beastly short. One wants to live forever, and know everything." "And love everybody?" "No," cried Jon; "I only want to love once you." "Indeed! You're coming on! Oh! Look! There's the chalk-pit; we can't be very far now. Let's run." Jon followed, wondering fearfully if he had offended her. The chalk-pit was full of sunshine and the murmuration of bees.
"Yes," muttered Jon, "life's beastly short. One wants to live for ever, and know everything." "And love everybody?" "No," cried Jon; "I only want to love once you." "Indeed! You're coming on! Oh! Look! There's the chalk-pit; we can't be very far now. Let's run." Jon followed, wondering fearfully if he had offended her. The chalk-pit was full of sunshine and the murmuration of bees.
There was no sound in the deep lanes, none of that sweet, overhead sighing of yesterday at the same hour, but there was a quality of silence a dumb mist murmuration.
And rustling deep down in this Titanic creature of his fancy was 'the murmuration' of his own unspoken speech, sweeping away the puff balls of words flung up by that far-away, small, varying voice. Then, suddenly all that dream creature had vanished; he was on his feet, with a thumping heart, speaking.
That restless murmuration, and the width of the night with its scattered stars, seemed to come rushing at his face. He withdrew from it, and leaning on the sill looked down at her. What flower-like delicacy she had!
And the fantastic thought sprang into my mind: I have died. This is the voyage of my soul in the wild. I am in the final wilderness of spirits lost in the ghost robe that wraps the earth. There seemed in all this white murmuration to be millions of tiny hands stretching out to me, millions of whispering voices, of wistful eyes.
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