Fathers and sons -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
A fresh wind sprang up and blew from the west; and as
the blue spread, little white clouds arose and danced over it. Even
before we could get used to so great a bliss, the heaven was all blue
and fleecy-winged, and the happy trees rustled greenly.
Again I dropped adown that darkling sea of death in life, and rose up
again to find myself in a boat, floating, floating, on the wavelike
ripples of a larger lake. So I knew it was the sea. I was near the
shore, but yet not going in; and as I turned my eyes that way, I saw a
height overhung with sky so blue! I have never seen such sky. But
beneath and built upon the height was something more radiant than the
sky itself: a temple with a wilderness of columns and vistas of
columned shade within. The temple was of marble, mellowed and creamy,
and rosy also, from some inner light, it seemed to me: something that
glowed perennially and generated beauty as it glowed. And as I looked,
wonder-stricken and alive with pure delight, one of the columns melted
into air, and in the larger space it gave, stood you, my lady, clothed
in white falling in folds more wonderful than the whorling of a bud
within its sheath. You held a cup, and reached it to me with a smile
divinely kind. I rose and plunged; the water closed over me, and sleep
enwrapped me over.
And then again I rose, and I knew I was in Paradise; for it was a sunny
forest of newly-budded trees, and I heard strange music and knew you
would be with me soon and that all would be infinitely well with us
forever. I sank back into measureless peace, the perfect patience of
waiting. As I lay there, one came toward me, and although I could not
see his face, I knew, this is an angel! He asked me some
question,--what, I cannot tell; but I was in love with my pleasure of
mind, and told him what was only half true. (You know they were talking
of truth and lies at the camp the other night, and I was puzzled. Now I
know what it is to tell a half-truth.) But as I spoke, the leaves of
the trees withered and fell, and the birds left their contented harmony
and began screaming in discord. The angel was gone, and I knew that
heaven was destroyed, and I had done it. I woke, grasping my arms so
tightly with either hand that the pressure hurt. I was sobbing for
breath. But I was alive, and my heaven lay yet before me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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