This shall be to you a day out of
eternity, a moment out of the immortal youth to which all true life
comes at last, and in which it abides."
I cannot say that I heard these words, and yet they were as real to me
as if they had been audible; in all fellowship with Nature silence is
deeper and more real than speech. As I stood meditating on these deep
things that lie at the bottom of this sea of bloom, I understood why
men in all ages have connected the flowering of the apple with their
dreams of paradise; I saw at a glance the immortal symbolism of these
blossoming fields and hillsides. I did not need to lift my eyes to
look upon that garden of Hesperides, lying like a dream of heaven under
the golden western skies, whence Heracles brought back the fruit of
Juno; I asked no aid of Milton's imagination to see the mighty hero in
. . . the gardens fair
Of Hesperus and his daughters three,
That sing about the golden tree;
and as I gazed, the vision of that other and nobler hero came before
me, whose purity is more to us than his prowess, and who waits in
Avilion, the "Isle of Apples," for the call that shall summon him back
from Paradise.
I am going a long way
With these thou seest--if indeed I go
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)--
To the island-valley of Avilion;
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Nor even wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns
And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea,
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
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