_June 4._ I sit here this fourth of June, looking out on men and nature from this that I call my perspective window, through which all things are seen in their true relations. This is my upper empire, bounded by four walls, viz., three of boards yellow-washed, facing the north, west, and south, respectively, and the fourth of plaster, likewise yellow-washed, fronting the sunrise,—to say nothing of the purlieus and outlying provinces, unexplored as yet but by rats. * * * * * The words of some men are thrown forcibly against you and adhere like burs. RENCOUNTER _June 22. Saturday._ I have within the last few days come into contact with a pure, uncompromising spirit, that is somewhere wandering in the atmosphere, but settles not positively anywhere. Some persons carry about them the air and conviction of virtue, though they themselves are unconscious of it, and are even backward to appreciate it in others. Such it is impossible not to love; still is their loveliness, as it were, independent of them, so that you seem not to lose it when they are absent, for when they are near it is like an invisible presence which attends you. That virtue we appreciate is as much ours as another's. We see so much only as we possess. SYMPATHY[56] _June 24._ Lately, alas, I knew a gentle boy, Whose features all were cast in Virtue's mould, As one she had designed for Beauty's toy, But after manned him for her own stronghold. On every side he open was as day, That you might see no lack of strength within, For walls and ports do only serve alway For a pretense to feebleness and sin. Say not that Cæsar was victorious, With toil and strife who stormed the House of Fame; In other sense this youth was glorious, Himself a kingdom wheresoe'er he came. No strength went out to get him victory, When all was income of its own accord; For where he went none other was to see, But all were parcel of their noble lord. He forayed like the subtle haze of summer, That stilly shows fresh landscapes to our eyes, And revolutions works without a murmur, Or rustling of a leaf beneath the skies. So was I taken unawares by this, I quite forgot my homage to confess; Yet now am forced to know, though hard it is, I might have loved him, had I loved him less. Each moment, as we nearer drew to each, A stern respect withheld us farther yet, So that we seemed beyond each other's reach, And less acquainted than when first we met. We two were one while we did sympathize, So could we not the simplest bargain drive; And what avails it now that we are wise, If absence doth this doubleness contrive? Eternity may not the chance repeat, But I must tread my single way alone, In sad remembrance that we once did meet, And know that bliss irrevocably gone.