an object of willing. We are
content to contemplate her in passive receptivity. We have here
a problem which is well worthy of discussion. Let us bring the
matter to the test of actual experience as embodied in modern
prose and poetry. For while it goes without saying that the
qualities of physical remoteness, elevation, and vastness, have
their own peculiar mystical power, and that they are especially
manifested in the phenomena of the starry heaven, there is a
danger of emphasising this fact to the detriment of the basic
principle of Nature Mysticism. In order to bring the discussion
within reasonable limits, let it be confined to Schopenhauer's
example:

"That orbed maiden, with white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the moon."

Is it true that there is, alongside of the feeling of her remoteness,
none of the active emotion which essential kinship would lead
us to anticipate?

Appeal might at once be made to the proverbial "crying for the
moon"; and there would be more in the appeal than might
appear at first sight. For there comes at once into mind the
sublimination of this longing in the lovely myth of Endymion
which so powerfully affected Keats, and fascinated even
Browning. Appeal might also be made to the sweet naturalism
of St. Francis with his endearing name, "Our sister, the Moon."

There is, moreover, the enormous mass of magical and
superstitious lore which gives the moon a very practical and
direct influence over human affairs. This may be ruled out as
not based on facts; but it remains as an evidence of a sense of
kinship of a practical kind. And if this fails, there is the teaching
of modern science. We now know that the tides are evidence of
the moon's never-ceasing interposition in terrestrial affairs, and
that, apart from her functions as a light-giver, innumerable
human happenings are dependent on her motion and position.
There is even a theory that she is part and parcel of the earth
itself, having been torn out of the bed of the Pacific. And, in any
case, her surface has been explored, so far as it is turned to us,
and, with a marvellous accuracy of detail, mapped out, and
named. Science, then, while measuring her distance, certainly
does not increase the sense of our alienation from her.

But let us turn, as proposed, to the writings of modern seers and
interpreters. See how Keats associates the moon with the
humblest and most homely things of earth:

"Some shape of beauty move