rapt and beautiful, rising from the chimneys at his feet. A sheet of
water--making heaven out of nothing--is beautiful to the dullest man,
because he cannot analyse it, could not--even if he would--contrive to
see it by itself. Skies come crowding on it. There is enough poetry in
the mere angle of a sinking sun to flood the prose of a continent with,
because the gentle earthlong shadows that follow it lay their fingers
upon all life and creep together innumerable separated things.

In the meadow where our birds are there is scarcely a tree in sight to
tangle the singing in. It is a meadow with miles of sunlight in it. It
seems like a kind of world-melody to walk in the height of noon
there--infinite grass, infinite sky, gusts of bobolinks' voices--it's as
if the air that drifted down made music of itself; and the song of all
the singing everywhere--the song the soul hears--comes on the slow
winds.

Half the delight of a bobolink is that he is more synthetic, more of a
poet, than other birds,--has a duet in his throat. He bursts from the
grass and sings in bursts--plays his own obligato while he goes. One can
never see him in his eager flurry, between his low heaven and his low
nest, without catching the lilt of inspiration. Like the true poet, he
suits the action to the word in a weary world, and does his flying and
singing together. The song that he throws around him, is the very spirit
of his wings--of all wings. More beauty is always the putting of more
things together. They were created to be together. The spirit of art is
the spirit that finds this out. Even the bobolink is cosmic, if he sings
with room enough; and when the heart wakes, the song of the cricket is
infinite. We hear it across stars.

The Sixth Interference: Literary Drill in College

I

Seeds and Blossoms

Four men stood before God at the end of The First Week, watching Him
whirl His little globe.[2] The first man said to Him, "Tell me how you
did it." The second man said, "Let me have it." The third man said,
"What is it for?" The fourth man said nothing, and fell down and
worshipped. Having worshipped he rose to his feet and made a world
himself.

[2] Recently discovered manuscript.

These four men have been known in history as the Scientist, the Man of
Affairs, the Philosopher, and the Artist. They stand for the four
necessary points of view in reading books.

Most of the readers of the world are content to be partitioned o