ea gay with the
bunting of a first voyage, with a fair wind, and on a fine morning; and
when such a ship came back long after as an old plank bearded with sea
moss, to the dunes under which it stranded the day was still the same,
vestal and innocent; for they were on a voyage of greater length and
import. They had buried many ships; but, as time moved to them, all on
the same day.

Only when resting on a knoll of one of the slopes, where the shadows of
a tuft of marram grass above my head lay as thin black wire on the
sand, were the dunes caught in part of their secret. There was no
sound. I heard the outer world from which I had come only as the
whistle of a curlew. It was far away now. To this place, the news I had
heard on the quay that morning would have sounded the same as Waterloo,
which was yesterday, or the Armada, which was the same day--wasn't
it?--or the day before, or as the whistle of a curlew. Here we were
outside time. Then I thought I heard a faint whisper, but when I looked
round nothing had altered. The shadows of the grass formed a fixed
metallic design on the sand. But I heard the whisper again, and with a
side glance caught the dune stealthily on the move.

It was alive. When you were not attentive, some of its grains would
start furtively, pour in increasing mobility fanwise, and rest
instantly when looked at. This hill was fluid, and circulated. It
preserved an outline that was fixed through the years, a known, named,
and charted locality, only to those to whom one map would serve a
lifetime. But it was really unknown. It was on its way. Like the ships
that were passing, it also was passing. It was only taking its own
time.

Secluded within the inner ranges were little valleys, where, for a
while, the dunes had ceased to travel, and were at leisure. I got into
a hollow which had a floor of hoary lichen, with bronze hummocks of
moss. In this moment of pause it had assumed a look of what we call
antiquity. The valley was not abundant with vegetation, but enamelled
and jewelled. A more concentrated, hectic, and volatile essence sent up
stalks, blades, and sprays, with that direction and restraint which
perfection needs. More than in a likelier and fecund spot, in this
valley the ichor showed the ardour and flush of its early vitality.
Even now it could shape like this, and give these dyes! Chosen by an
earth astringent and tonic, the forms were few and personal. Here you
should see to what influe