Such a play of colors and lights, different seasons, different hours of
the day--the lines of the far horizon where the faint-tinged edge of the
landscape loses itself in the sky. As I slowly hobble up the lane toward
day-close, an incomparable sunset shooting in molten sapphire and gold,
shaft after shaft, through the ranks of the long-leaved corn, between me
and the west. _Another day_--The rich dark green of the tulip-trees and
the oaks, the gray of the swamp-willows, the dull hues of the sycamores
and black-walnuts, the emerald of the cedars (after rain,) and the light
yellow of the beeches.