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the light。 The trees show you a shadow for every leaf； and the
poplars are sprinkled upon the shining sky with little shadows that
look translucent。 The liveliness of every shadow is that some light
is reflected into it； shade and shine have been entangled as though
by some wild wind through their million molecules。
The coolness and the dark of night are interlocked with the
unclouded sun。 Turn sunward from the north； and shadows come to
life； and are themselves the life； the action； and the transparence
of their day。
To eyes tired and retired all day within lowered blinds； the light
looks still and changeless。 So many squares of sunshine abide for
so many hours； and when the sun has circled away they pass and are
extinguished。 Him who lies alone there the outer world touches less
by this long sunshine than by the haste and passage of a shadow。
Although there may be no tree to stand between his window and the
south； and although no noonday wind may blow a branch of roses
across the blind； shadows and their life will be carried across by a
brilliant bird。
To the sick man a cloud…shadow is nothing but an eclipse； he cannot
see its shape； its color； its approach； or its flight。 It does but
darken his window as it darkens the day； and is gone again； he does
not see it pluck and snatch the sun。 But the flying bird shows him
wings。 What flash of light could be more bright for him than such a
flash of darkness？
It is the pulse of life； where all change had seemed to be charmed。
If he had seen the bird itself he would have seen lessthe bird's
shadow was a message from the sun。
There are two separated flights for the fancy to follow； the flight
of the bird in the air； and the flight of its shadow on earth。 This
goes across the window blind； across the wood； where it is astray
for a while in the shades； it dips into the valley； growing vaguer
and larger； runs； quicker than the wind； uphill； smaller and darker
on the soft and dry grass； and rushes to meet its bird when the bird
swoops to a branch and clings。
In the great bird country of the north…eastern littoral of England；
about Holy Island and the basaltic rocks； the shadows of the high
birds are the movement and the pulse of the solitude。 Where there
are no woods to make a shade； the sun suffers the brilliant eclipse
of flocks of pearl…white sea birds； or of the solitary creature
driving on the wind。 Theirs is always a surprise of flight。 The
clouds go one way； but the birds go all ways： in from the sea or
out； across the sands； inland to high northern fields； where the
crops are late by a month。 They fly so high that though they have
the shadow of the sun under their wings； they have the light of the
earth there also。 The waves and the coast shine up to them； and
they fly between lights。
Black flocks and white they gather their delicate shadows up； 〃swift
as dreams；〃 at the end of their flight into the clefts； platforms；
and ledges of harbourless rocks dominating the North Sea。 They
subside by degrees； with lessening and shortening volleys of wings
and cries until there comes the general shadow of night wherewith
the little shadows close； complete。
The evening is the shadow of another flight。 All the birds have
traced wild and innumerable paths across the mid…May earth； their
shadows have fled all day faster than her streams； and have
overtaken all the movement of her wingless creatures。 But now it is
the flight of the very earth that carries her clasped shadow from
the sun。
Footnotes：
｛1｝ I found it afterwards： it was Rebecca。
End