And some among
them--though these were prophets and poets but half believed, and
looked upon as partly mad and partly wonderful--affirmed that they
felt the sea itself far leagues away, bending their heads this way and
that for hours at a stretch, according to the thundering vibrations
that the tide sent through the soil from distant shores.
But all, from the tallest spread-head to the smallest button-face--all
knew the pleasure of the uncertain winds; all knew the game of holding
flying things just a moment longer, by fascinating them, by drowsing
them into sleepiness, by nipping their probosces, or by puffing
perfume into their nostrils while they caught their feet with the
pressure of a hundred yellow rods....
Enormous periods passed away. A cloud that for a man's "ten minutes"
hid the sun, wearied them so that they simply closed their eyes and
went to sleep. Showers of rain they loved, because it washed and
cooled them, and they felt the huge satisfaction of the earth beneath
them as it drank: the sweet sensation of wet soil that sponged their
roots, the pleasant gush that sluiced their bodies and carried off the
irritating dust.
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