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pageant of summer-第1章

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Pageant of Summer



by Richard Jefferies








I。







GREEN rushes; long and thick; standing up above the edge of the 

ditch; told the hour of the year as distinctly as the shadow on the 

dial the hour of the day。  Green and thick and sappy to the touch; 

they felt like summer; soft and elastic; as if full of life; mere 

rushes though they were。  On the fingers they left a green scent; 

rushes have a separate scent of green; so; too; have ferns; very 

different from that of grass or leaves。  Rising from brown sheaths; 

the tall stems enlarged a little in the middle; like classical 

columns; and heavy with their sap and freshness; leaned against the 

hawthorn sprays。  From the earth they had drawn its moisture; and 

made the ditch dry; some of the sweetness of the air had entered 

into their fibres; and the rushes … the common rushes … were full 

of beautiful summer。  The white pollen of early grasses growing on 

the edge was dusted from them each time the hawthorn boughs were 

shaken by a thrush。  These lower sprays came down in among the 

grass; and leaves and grass…blades touched。  Smooth round stems of 

angelica; big as a gun…barrel; hollow and strong; stood on the 

slope of the mound; their tiers of well…balanced branches rising 

like those of a tree。  Such a sturdy growth pushed back the ranks 

of hedge parsley in full white flower; which blocked every avenue 

and winding bird's…path of the bank。  But the 〃gix;〃 or wild 

parsnip; reached already high above both; and would rear its fluted 

stalk; joint on joint; till it could face a man。  Trees they were 

to the lesser birds; not even bending if perched on; but though so 

stout; the birds did not place their nests on or against them。  

Something in the odour of these umbelliferous plants; perhaps; is 

not quite liked; if brushed or bruised they give out a bitter 

greenish scent。  Under their cover; well shaded and hidden; birds 

build; but not against or on the stems; though they will affix 

their nests to much less certain supports。  With the grasses that 

overhung the edge; with the rushes in the ditch itself; and these 

great plants on the mound; the whole hedge was wrapped and 

thickened。  No cunning of glance could see through it; it would 

have needed a ladder to help any one look over。



It was between the may and the June roses。  The may bloom had 

fallen; and among the hawthorn boughs were the little green bunches 

that would feed the red…wings in autumn。  High up the briars had 

climbed; straight and towering while there was a thorn or an ash 

sapling; or a yellow…green willow; to uphold them; and then curving 

over towards the meadow。  The buds were on them; but not yet open; 

it was between the may and the rose。



As the wind; wandering over the sea; takes from each wave an 

invisible portion; and brings to those on shore the ethereal 

essence of ocean; so the air lingering among the wood and hedges … 

green waves and billows … became full of fine atoms of summer。  

Swept from notched hawthorn leaves; broad…topped oak…leaves; narrow 

ash sprays and oval willows; from vast elm cliffs and sharp…taloned 

brambles under; brushed from the waving grasses and stiffening 

corn; the dust of the sunshine was borne along and breathed。  

Steeped in flower and pollen to the music of bees and birds; the 

stream of the atmosphere became a living thing。  It was life to 

breathe it; for the air itself was life。  The strength of the earth 

went up through the leaves into the wind。  Fed thus on the food of 

the Immortals; the heart opened to the width and depth of the 

summer … to the broad horizon afar; down to the minutest creature 

in the grass; up to the highest swallow。  Winter shows us Matter in 

its dead form; like the Primary rocks; like granite and basalt … 

clear but cold and frozen crystal。  Summer shows us Matter changing 

into life; sap rising from the earth through a million tubes; the 

alchemic power of light entering the solid oak; and see! it bursts 

forth in countless leaves。  Living things leap in the grass; living 

things drift upon the air; living things are coming forth to 

breathe in every hawthorn bush。  No longer does the immense weight 

of Matter … the dead; the crystallized … press ponderously on the 

thinking mind。  The whole office of Matter is to feed life … to 

feed the green rushes; and the roses that are about to be; to feed 

the swallows above; and us that wander beneath them。  So much 

greater is this green and common rush than all the Alps。



Fanning so swiftly; the wasp's wings are but just visible as he 

passes; did he pause; the light would be apparent through their 

texture。  On the wings of the dragon…fly as he hovers an instant 

before he darts there is a prismatic gleam。  These wing textures 

are even more delicate than the minute filaments on a swallow's 

quill; more delicate than the pollen of a flower。  They are formed 

of matter indeed; but how exquisitely it is resolved into the means 

and organs of life!  Though not often consciously recognized; 

perhaps this is the great pleasure of summer; to watch the earth; 

the dead particles; resolving themselves into the living case of 

life; to see the seed…leaf push aside the clod and become by 

degrees the perfumed flower。  From the tiny mottled egg come the 

wings that by…and…by shall pass the immense sea。  It is in this 

marvellous transformation of clods and cold matter into living 

things that the joy and the hope of summer reside。  Every blade of 

grass; each leaf; each separate floret and petal; is an inscription 

speaking of hope。  Consider the grasses and the oaks; the swallows; 

the sweet blue butterfly … they are one and all a sign and token 

showing before our eyes earth made into life。  So that my hope 

becomes as broad as the horizon afar; reiterated by every leaf; 

sung on every bough; reflected in the gleam of every flower。  There 

is so much for us yet to come; so much to be gathered; and enjoyed。  

Not for you or me; now; but for our race; who will ultimately use 

this magical secret for their happiness。  Earth holds secrets 

enough to give them the life of the fabled Immortals。  My heart is 

fixed firm and stable in the belief that ultimately the sunshine 

and the summer; the flowers and the azure sky; shall become; as it 

were; interwoven into man's existence。  He shall take from all 

their beauty and enjoy their glory。  Hence it is that a flower is 

to me so much more than stalk and petals。  When I look in the glass 

I see that every line in my face means pessimism; but in spite of 

my face … that is my experience … I remain an optimist。  Time with 

an unsteady hand has etched thin crooked lines; and; deepening the 

hollows; has cast the original expression into shadow。  Pain and 

sorrow flow over us with little ceasing; as the sea…hoofs beat on 

the beach。  Let us not look at ourselves but onwards; and take 

strength from the leaf and the signs of the field。  He is indeed 

despicable who cannot look onwards to the ideal life of man。  Not 

to do so is to deny our birthright of mind。



The long grass flowing towards the hedge has reared in a wave 

against it。  Along the hedge it is higher and greener; and rustles 

into the very bushes。  There is a mark only now where the footpath 

was; it passed close to the hedge; but its place is traceable only 

as a groove in the sorrel and seed…tops。  Though it has quite 

filled the path; the grass there cannot send its tops so high; it 

has left a winding crease。  By the hedge here stands a moss…grown 

willow; and its slender branches extend over the sward。  Beyond it 

is an oak; just apart from the bushes; then the ground gently 

rises; and an ancient pollard ash; hollow and black inside; guards 

an open gateway like a low tower。  The different tone of green 

shows that the hedge is there of nut…trees; but one great hawthorn 

spreads out in a semicircle; roofing the grass which is yet more 

verdant in the still pool (as it were) under it。  Next a corner; 

more oaks; and a chestnut in bloom。  Returning to this spot an old 

apple tree stands right out in the meadow like an island。  There 

seemed just now the tiniest twinkle of movement by the rushes; but 

it was lost among the hedge parsley。  Among the grey leaves of the 

willow there is another flit of motion; and visible now against the 

sky there is a little brown bird; not to be distinguished at the 

moment from the many other little brown birds that are known to be 

about。  He got up into the willow from the hedge parsley somehow; 

without being seen to climb or fly。  Suddenly he crosses to the 

tops of the hawthorn and immediately flings himself up into the air 

a yard or two; his wings and ruffled crest making a ragged outline; 

jerk; jerk; jerk; as if it were with the utmost difficulty he could 

keep even at that height。  He scolds; and twitters; and chir
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