The Wild Red Deer Lie There, But The Mountain Is Afar; A Sigh
Is All I Can Give To It,
For the Somerset sun is warm and the lotus sweet
Yonder, if the misty heat moves on, the dim line
Of Dunkery winds along
the sky, not unlike the curved back of a crouching hare. The weight of
the mountains is too great - what is the use of attempting to move? It is
enough to look at them. The day goes over like a white cloud; as the sun
declines it is pleasant to go into the orchard - the vineyard of Somerset,
and then perhaps westward may be seen a light in the sky by the horizon
as if thrown up from an immense mirror under. The mirror is the Severn
sea, itself invisible at this depth, but casting a white glow up against
the vapour in the air. By it you may recognise the nearness of the sea.
The thumb-nail ridges of the Quantocks begin to grow harder, they carry
the eye along on soft curves like those of the South Downs in Sussex, but
suddenly end in a flourish and point as if cut out with the thumb-nail.
Draw your thumb-nail firmly along soft wood, and it will, by its natural
slip, form such a curve. Blackbird and thrush commence to sing as the
heavy heat decreases; the bloom on the apple trees is loose now, and the
blackbird as he springs from the bough shakes down flakes of blossom.
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