From everlasting thy foundations deep,
Eldest of things, Great Earth, I sing of thee.
. . .
Mother of gods, thou wife of starry Heaven,
Farewell! be thou propitious."

Is there not a living continuity between the emotional element
in that grand old hymn and the strong full modern sentiment in
this concluding stanza of Brown's "Alma Mater"?

"O mother Earth, by the bright sky above thee,
I love thee, O, I love thee!
So let me leave thee never,
But cling to thee for ever,
And hover round thy mountains,
And flutter round thy fountains,
And pry into thy roses fresh and red;
And blush in all thy blushes,
And flush in all thy flushes,
And watch when thou art sleeping,
And weep when thou art weeping,
And be carried with thy motion,
As the rivers and the ocean,
As the great rocks and the trees are--
O mother, this were glorious life,
This were not to be dead.
O mother Earth, by the bright sky above thee,
I love thee, O, I love thee! "

CHAPTER XXXIII

SEASONS, VEGETATION, ANIMALS

The seasons and the months, especially those of the temperate
zones--how saturated with mysticism! The wealth of illustration
is so abounding that choice is wellnigh paralysed. Poets and
nature lovers are never weary of drawing on its inexhaustible
supplies. Take these verses from Tennyson's "Early Spring":

"Opens a door in Heaven;
From skies of glass
A Jacob's ladder falls
On greening grass,
And o'er the mountain-walls
Young angels pass.

For now the Heavenly Power
Makes all things new
And thaws the cold and fills
The flower with dew;
The blackbirds have their wills,
The poets too."

Or take these exultant lines from Coventry Patmore's
"Revulsion" Canto:

"'Twas when the spousal time of May
Hangs all the hedge with bridal wreaths,
And air's so sweet the bosom gay
Gives thanks for every breath it breathes;
When like to like is gladly moved,
And each thing joins in Spring's refrain,
'Let those love now who never loved;
Let those who have loved, love again.'"

Recall the poems that celebrate in endless chorus the emotions
stirred by the pomp and glory of the summer; by the fruitfulness
or sadness of the mellow autumn; by the keen exhilaration or
the frozen grip of winter. Some poets, like Blake, have writt