III-II

One March evening in my Sophomore year I
was sitting alone in my room after supper.
There had been a warm thaw all day, with
mushy yards and little streams of dark water
gurgling cheerfully into the streets out of old
snow-banks. My window was open, and the
earthy wind blowing through made me indo-
lent. On the edge of the prairie, where the sun
had gone down, the sky was turquoise blue, like
a lake, with gold light throbbing in it. Higher
up, in the utter clarity of the western slope,
the evening star hung like a lamp suspended
by silver chains -- like the lamp engraved
upon the title-page of old Latin texts, which is
always appearing in new heavens, and waking
new desires in men. It reminded me, at any
rate, to shut my window and light my wick
in answer. I did so regretfully, and the dim
objects in the room emerged from the shadows
and took their place about me with the help-
fulness which custom breeds.

I propped my book open and stared list-
lessly at the page of the Georgics where to-

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v?