BUT in the hut he stayed not long, all was so gloomy, close, and silent
within, and abroad everything seemed to smile, and to exult in the clear
and unbounded space. Therefore the Child went out into the green wood,
of which the Dragon-fly had told him such pleasant stories. But he found
everything far more beautiful and lovely even than she had described it;
for all about, wherever he went, the tender moss pressed his little feet,
and the delicate grass embraced his knees, and the flowers kissed his
hands, and even the branches stroked his cheeks with a kind and
refreshing touch, and the high trees threw their fragrant shade around
him.
There was no end to his delight. The little birds warbled and sang, and
fluttered and hopped about, and the delicate wood-flowers gave out their
beauty and their odours; and every sweet sound took a sweet odour by the
hand, and thus walked through the open door of the Child’s heart, and
held a joyous nuptial dance therein. But the Nightingale and the Lily of
the Valley led the dance; for the Nightingale sang of nought but love,
and the Lily breathed of nought but innocence, and he was the bridegroom
and she was the bride. And the Nightingale was never weary of repeating
the same thing a hundred times over, for the spring of love which gushed
from his heart was ever new—and the Lily bowed her head bashfully, that
no one might see her glowing heart. And yet the one lived so solely and
entirely in the other, that no one could see whether the notes of the
Nightingale were floating lilies, or the lilies visible notes, falling
like dewdrops from the Nightingale’s throat.
The Child’s heart was full of joy even to the brim. He set himself down,
and he almost thought he should like to take root there, and live for
ever among the sweet plants and flowers, and so become a true sharer in
all their gentle pleasures. For he felt a deep delight in the still,
secluded, twilight existence of the mosses and small herbs, which felt
not the storm, nor the frost, nor the scorching sunbeam; but dwelt
quietly among their many friends and neighbours, feasting in peace and
good fellowship on the dew and cool shadows which the mighty trees shed
upon them. To them it was a high festival when a sunbeam chanced to
visit their lowly home; whilst the tops of the lofty trees could find joy
and beauty only in the purple rays of morning or evening.