"It's a jolly day," he hummed
to himself, "and I'm alive. We must do all kinds of things--
everything! It's all one thing really!" It seemed there was a new,
uplifting sense of joy in merely being alive. He repeated the word
again and again--"alive, alive, alive!" Of course a robin sang: it was
the natural thing to do.
He looked out of the window while dressing, and caught the startling
impression that this life emanated from the world of familiar trees
and grass and flowers spread out before his eyes. Everything was
singing. Beauty had dropped down upon the earth; the earth, moreover,
knew that she was beautiful--she was obviously enjoying herself, both
as a whole and in every tiniest nook and corner of her gigantic being.
Yet without undue surprise he noted this; the marvel was there as
always, but he did not pause to say, "How marvellous!" It was as
natural as breathing, and as easily accepted. He was always breathing,
but he never stopped and thought, "Good Lord, I'm breathing! How
dreadful if it stopped!" He simply went on breathing. And so, with the
beauty of this radiant morning, it never occurred to him "This will
not last, the sun will set, the shadows fall, the marvel pass and
die.
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