In
Literature It Is Only In Vaughan, Traherne, And Other Mystics, That I
Find Any Adequate Expression Of That Perpetual Rapturous Delight In
Nature And My Own Existence Which I Experienced At That Period.
And now these never-to-be-forgotten words spoken over the grave of our
old dog had come to awaken me from that beautiful dream of perpetual
joy!
When I recall this event I am less astonished at my ignorance than at
the intensity of the feeling I experienced, the terrible darkness it
brought on so young a mind. The child's mind we think, and in fact
know, is like that of the lower animals; or if higher than the animal
mind, it is not so high as that of the simplest savage. He cannot
concentrate his thought - he cannot think at all; his consciousness is
in its dawn; he revels in colours, in odours, is thrilled by touch and
taste and sound, and is like a well-nourished pup or kitten at play on
a green turf in the sunshine. This being so, one would have thought
that the pain of the revelation I had received would have quickly
vanished - that the vivid impressions of external things would have
blotted it out and restored the harmony. But it was not so; the pain
continued and increased until it was no longer to be borne; then I
sought my mother, first watching until she was alone in her room. Yet
when with her I feared to speak lest with a word she should confirm
the dreadful tidings.
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