My thoughts went floating on vast and mystic currents as I sat to-day in
solitude and half-shade by the creek--returning mainly to two principal
centres. One of my cherish'd themes for a never-achiev'd poem has been
the two impetuses of man and the universe--in the latter, creation's
incessant unrest,[19] exfoliation, (Darwin's evolution, I suppose.)
Indeed, what is Nature but change, in all its visible, and still
more its invisible processes? Or what is humanity in its faith, love,
heroism, poetry, even morals, but _emotion_?
Note:
[19] "Fifty thousand years ago the constellation of the Great Bear or
Dipper was a starry cross; a hundred thousand years hence the imaginary
Dipper will be upside down, and the stars which form the bowl and handle
will have changed places. The misty nebulae are moving, and besides
are whirling around in great spirals, some one way, some another. Every
molecule of matter in the whole universe is swinging to and fro; every
particle of ether which fills space is in jelly-like vibration. Light
is one kind of motion, heat another, electricity another, magnetism
another, sound another. Every human sense is the result of motion; every
perception, every thought is but motion of the molecules of the brain
translated by that incomprehensible thing we call mind. The processes
of growth, of existence, of decay, whether in worlds, or in the minutest
organisms, are but motion."