Rain and wind cease together, and here on the short grass at the cliff’s edge is a strange birth—a gently convex fungus13 about two inches broad, the central boss of it[16] faintly indented14, the surface not perfectly15 regular but dimpled so as to break the light, and the edge wavering away from the pure circular form; in hue16 a pale chestnut17 paling to a transparent18 edge of honey colour; and the whole surface so smooth and polished by rain as to seem coated in ice. What a thought for the great earth on such a day! Out of the wood on to this grass the thrushes steal, running with heads down and stopping with heads prouder than stags’; out also into the short corn; and so glad are they that they quarrel and sing on the ground without troubling to find a perch19.
It is perfectly still; the sun splutters out of the thick grey and white sky, the white sails shine on a sea of steel, and it is warm. And now in the luxury of the first humid warmth and quiet of the year the blackbird sings. The rain sets in at nightfall, but the wind does not blow, and still the blackbird sings and the thrushes will hardly leave the corn. That one song alone sweetens the wide vague country of evening, the cloudy oak woods, the brown mixen under the elms and the little white farm behind the unpruned limes, with its oblong windows irregularly placed and of unequal size, its white door almost at a corner, and the lawn coming right to the walls.
Day breaks and sun and wind dance together in the clouds and trees, but without rain. Larks21 sing over the dark heavy cornland in which the watery22 furrows23 shine. The dead drab grasses wave at the feet of the hedgerows. Little pools at meadow corners bring down the sky to the dark earth. Horses nod before the plough. A slight haze24 exhales25 from the innumerable rich spongy clods,[17] between the hedges of oak and ash. Now and then shapeless rags of white or snow-grey clouds wander up from the west and for a little while obscure the white mountains of cloud, the blue sky, the silver sun; or the sweet smoke from the fires of hedgers and ditchers rises up against the edge of a copse. The white linen26 flaps and glows in cottage gardens; the dung cars go by crunching27 the flints into the mud; and the boots and bells of pony28 traps make a music forgotten since last February. It is only the twenty-second day of February, yet these delights of the soul through the eyes and ears are of spring. The children have begun to look for violets, and the youngest, being the nearest to them in stature29 and in nature, has found one. There she stands, four years old, with straight brown legs, her face clear and soft but brown as a new hazel nut, her hair almost of the same colour and paler where the sun has bleached30 it round her temples and falling over her cheeks and neck; and through it shine eyes of a deeper brown, the hue of the most exquisite31 flints. The eyes shine, the teeth shine through the ever parted long red lips, the chin shines, the brow shines most of all with a lustre32 that seems to come from the joyous33 brain behind.
She is beautiful and straight as the July corn, as the ash tree standing34 alone by the stream. She is fearless as fire, bold and restless as wind, clear-hearted, simple, bright and gay as a mountain water, in all her actions a daughter of the sun, the wind and the earth. She has loving looks for all. From her fair broad naked foot to her gleaming hair she is, to many, the dearest thing that lives.
Beside her plays a dog, with lifted ears, head on one[18] side, rosy35 tongue bright against his yellow fur, waiting upon her fancies. His rest and his motion, like hers, are careless and beautiful, gifts of the sun, the wind and the earth. As I look at them I think of such a child and such a playmate that lived two thousand years ago in the sun, and once as they played each set a foot upon the soft clay of a tile that the tile maker36 had not yet burned hard and red. The tile fell in the ruin of a Roman city in Britain, was buried hundreds of years in ashes and flowering mould, and yesterday I saw the footprints in the dark red tile, two thousand years old.
A day follows of rain and wind, and it is the robin38 that is most heard among the dripping thorns, the robin and his autumnal voice. But the sky clears for sunset and the blackbird’s hour, and, as twilight39 ends, only the rear of the disappearing procession of day cloud is visible on the western horizon, while the procession of night has but sent up two or three dark forerunners40. The sky is of palest blue, and Jupiter and Sirius are bright over the sea, Venus over the land and Mercury just over the far oaks. The sea is very dark except at the horizon which is pale with the dissolving remnant of sunset gold in it; but two ranks of breakers throw up a waving vapour of fairy foam against the dark waves behind.
Again there are roaring wet mornings and sunlit mornings, but in them all the pewits wheel over the marsh9 and their wild cries mingle41 with the sweet whimper of dunlins, the songs of larks, the glitter of the dykes42, the wall of rain. All day the sky over heathery moorland is like a reduplication of the moorland, except that at the horizon the sky clears at intervals43 and fleets of pure white[19] cloud sail over the dark ploughland and green pines; and the gentle sea is white only where the waves break on the sand like a line of children in white frocks advancing with wavers in the game of “Here we come gathering44 nuts and may.” Or the west is angry, thick and grey, the snow is horizontal and fierce, and yet the south has a bay of blue sky and in it a vast sunlit precipice45 of white cloud, and the missel thrushes roll out their songs again and again at the edges of many woods. Or a sun appears that brings out the songs of thrush and chaffinch and lark20, and leaves a chequer of snow on pine and ploughland and on the mole46 hills of the meadows. Again the sun disappears and the swift heavy hail rebounds47 on the grass with a dancing as of sand-hoppers, and there is no other sound except a sudden hedgesparrow’s song to break in upon the beating of the pellets on hard ivy49 and holly50 and tender grass. In the frosty evening the first moth51 comes to the lamp.
Now the rain falls rejoicing in its power, and then the sky is sunny and the white clouds are bubble-shaped in the blue, the wet roads are azure52 with reflected sky, the trees are all of crystal, and the songs of thrushes can be heard even through the snorting and rumbling53 of a train.
HAMPSHIRE.
The beeches54 on the beech55-covered hills roar and strain as if they would fly off with the hill, and anon they are as meek56 as a great horse leaning his head over a gate. If there is a misty57 day there is one willow58 in a coombe[20] lifting up a thousand silver catkins like a thousand lamps, when there is no light elsewhere. Another day, a wide and windy day, is the jackdaw’s, and he goes straight and swift and high like a joyous rider crying aloud on an endless savannah, and, underneath59, the rippled60 pond is as bright as a peacock, and millions of beech leaves drive across the open glades61 of the woods, rushing to their Acheron. The bush harrow stripes the moist and shining grass; the plough changes the pale stubble into a ridgy62 chocolate; they are peeling the young ash sticks for hop48 poles and dipping them in tar63. At the dying of that windy day the wind is still; there is a bright pale half-moon tangled64 in the pink whirl of after-sunset cloud, a sound of blackbirds from pollard oaks against the silver sky, a sound of bells from hamlets hidden among beeches.
Towards the end of March there are six nights of frost giving birth to still mornings of weak sunlight, of an opaque66 yet not definitely misty air. The sky is of a milky67, uncertain pale blue without one cloud. Eastward68 the hooded69 sun is warming the slope fields and melting the sparkling frost. In many trees the woodpeckers laugh so often that their cry is a song. A grassy70 ancient orchard71 has taken possession of the visible sunbeams, and the green and gold of the mistletoe glows on the silvered and mossy branches of apple trees. The pale stubble is yellow and tenderly lit, and gives the low hills a hollow light appearance as if they might presently dissolve. In a hundred tiers on the steep hill, the uncounted perpendicular73 straight stems of beech, and yet not all quite perpendicular or quite straight, are silver-[21]grey in the midst of a haze, here brown, there rosy, of branches and swelling74 buds. Though but a quarter of a mile away in this faintly clouded air they are very small, a?rial in substance, infinitely75 remote from the road on which I stand, and more like reflections in calm water than real things.
At the lower margin76 of the wood the overhanging branches form blue caves, and out of these emerge the songs of many hidden birds. I know that there are bland77 melodious78 blackbirds of easy musing79 voices, robins80 whose earnest song, though full of passion, is but a fragment that has burst through a more passionate81 silence, hedgesparrows of liquid confiding82 monotone, brisk acid wrens83, chaffinches and yellowhammers saying always the same thing (a dear but courtly praise of the coming season), larks building spires85 above spires into the sky, thrushes of infinite variety that talk and talk of a thousand things, never thinking, always talking of the moment, exclaiming, scolding, cheering, flattering, coaxing86, challenging, with merry-hearted, bold voices that must have been the same in the morning of the world when the forest trees lay, or leaned, or hung, where they fell. Yet I can distinguish neither blackbird, nor robin, nor hedgesparrow, nor any one voice. All are blent into one seething87 stream of song. It is one song, not many. It is one spirit that sings. Mixed with them is the myriad88 stir of unborn things, of leaf and blade and flower, many silences at heart and root of tree, voices of hope and growth, of love that will be satisfied though it leap upon the swords of life. Yet not during all the day does the earth truly awaken89. Even in town and city the dream prevails, and[22] only dimly lighted their chalky towers and spires rise out of the sweet mist and sing together beside the waters.
The earth lies blinking, turning over languidly and talking like a half-awakened child that now and then lies still and sleeps though with eyes wide open. The air is still full of the dreams of a night which this mild sun cannot dispel90. The dreams are prophetic as well as reminiscent, and are visiting the woods, and that is why they will not cast aside the veil. Who would rise if he could continue to dream?
It is not spring yet. Spring is being dreamed, and the dream is more wonderful and more blessed than ever was spring. What the hour of waking will bring forth91 is not known. Catch at the dreams as they hover92 in the warm thick air. Up against the grey tiers of beech stems and the mist of the buds and fallen leaves rise two columns of blue smoke from two white cottages among trees; they rise perfectly straight and then expand into a balanced cloud, and thus make and unmake continually two trees of smoke. No sound comes from the cottages. The dreams are over them, over the brows of the children and the babes, of the men and the women, bringing great gifts, suggestions, shadowy satisfactions, consolations93, hopes. With inward voices of persuasion94 those dreams hover and say that all is to be made new, that all is yet before us, and the lots are not yet drawn95 out of the urn37.
We shall presently set out and sail into the undiscovered seas and find new islands of the free, the beautiful, the young. As is the dimly glimmering96 changeless brook97 twittering over the pebbles98, so is life. It is but just leaving[23] the fount. All things are possible in the windings99 between fount and sea.
Never again shall we demand the cuckoo’s song from the August silence. Never will July nip the spring and lengthen100 the lambs’ faces and take away their piquancy101, or June shut a gate between us and the nightingale, or May deny the promise of April. Hark! before the end of afternoon the owls102 hoot104 in their sleep in the ivied beeches. A dream has flitted past them, more silent of wing than themselves. Now it is between the wings of the first white butterfly, and it plants a smile in the face of the infant that cannot speak: and again it is with the brimstone butterfly, and the child who is gathering celandine and cuckoo flower and violet starts back almost in fear at the dream.
The grandmother sitting in her daughter’s house, left all alone in silence, her hands clasped upon her knees, forgets the courage without hope that has carried her through eighty years, opens her eyes, unclasps her hands from the knot as of stiff rope, distends105 them and feels the air, and the dream is between her fingers and she too smiles, she knows not why. A girl of sixteen, ill-dressed, not pretty, has seen it also. She has tied up her black hair in a new crimson106 ribbon. She laughs aloud with a companion at something they know in common and in secret, and as she does so lifts her neck and is glad from the sole of her foot to the crown of her head. She is lost in her laughter and oblivious107 of its cause. She walks away, and her step is as firm as that of a ewe defending her lamb. She was a poor and misused108 child, and I can see her as a woman of fifty, sitting on a London bench,[24] grey-complexioned, in old black hat, black clothes, crouching109 over a paper bag of fragments, in the beautiful August rain after heat. But this is her hour. That future is not among the dreams in the air to-day. She is at one with the world, and a deep music grows between her and the stars. Her smile is one of those magical things, great and small and all divine, that have the power to wield110 universal harmonies. At sight or sound of them the infinite variety of appearances in the world is made fairer than before, because it is shown to be a many-coloured raiment of the one. The raiment trembles, and under leaf and cloud and air a window is thrown open upon the unfathomable deep, and at the window we are sitting, watching the flight of our souls away, away to where they must be gathered into the music that is being built. Often upon the vast and silent twilight, as now, is the soul poured out as a rivulet111 into the sea and lost, not able even to stain the boundless112 crystal of the air; and the body stands empty, waiting for its return, and, poor thing, knows not what it receives back into itself when the night is dark and it moves away. For we stand ever at the edge of Eternity113 and fall in many times before we die. Yet even such thoughts live not long this day. All shall be healed, says the dream. All shall be made new. The day is a fairy birth, a foundling not fathered nor mothered by any grey yesterdays. It has inherited nothing. It makes of winter and of the old springs that wrought114 nothing fair a stale creed115, a senseless tale: they are naught116: I do not wonder any longer if the lark’s song has grown old with the ears that hear it or if it be still unchanged.
[25]
What dreams are there for that aged117 child who goes tottering118 and reeling up the lane at mid-day? He carries a basket of watercress on his back. He has sold two-pennyworth, and he is tipsy, grinning through the bruises119 of a tipsy fall, and shifting his cold pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. Though hardly sixty he is very old, worn and thin and wrinkled, and bent120 sideways and forward at the waist and the shoulders. Yet he is very young. He is just what he was forty years ago when the thatcher121 found him lying on his back in the sun instead of combing out the straw and sprinkling it with water for his use. He laid no plans as a youth; he had only a few transparent tricks and easy lies. Never has he thought of the day after to-morrow. For a few years in his prime he worked almost regularly for one or two masters, leaving them only now and then upon long errands of his own and known only to himself. It was then perhaps that he earned or received as a gift, along with a broken nose, his one name, which is Jackalone. For years he was the irresponsible jester to a smug townlet which was privately122 amused and publicly scandalized, and rewarded him in a gaol123, where, unlike Tasso, he never complained. Since then he has lived by the sale of a chance rabbit or two, of watercress, of greens gathered when the frost is on them and nobody looking, by gifts of broken victuals124, by driving a few bullocks to a fair, by casual shelter in barns, in roofless cottages, or under hedges.
He has never had father or mother or brother or sister or wife or child. No dead leaf in autumn wind or branch in flooded brook seems more helpless. He can deceive nobody. He is in prison two or three times a[26] year for little things: it seems a charity to put a roof over his head and clip his hair. He has no wisdom; by nothing has he soiled what gifts were given to him at his birth. The dreams will not pass him by. They come to give him that confidence by which he lives in spite of men’s and children’s contumely.
How little do we know of the business of the earth, not to speak of the universe; of time, not to speak of eternity. It was not by taking thought that man survived the mastodon. The acts and thoughts that will serve the race, that will profit this commonwealth125 of things that live in the sun, the air, the earth, the sea, now and through all time, are not known and never will be known. The rumour126 of much toil127 and scheming and triumph may never reach the stars, and what we value not at all, are not conscious of, may break the surface of eternity with endless ripples128 of good. We know not by what we survive. There is much philosophy in that Irish tale of the poor blind woman who recovered her sight at St. Brigit’s well. “Did I say more prayers than the rest? Not a prayer. I was young in those days. I suppose she took a liking129 to me, maybe because of my name being Brigit the same as her own.”[1] Others went unrelieved away that day. We are as ignorant still. Hence the batlike fears about immortality131. We wish to prolong what we can see and touch and talk of, and knowing that clothes and flesh and other perishing things may not pass over the borders of death with us, we give up all, as if forsooth the undertaker and the gravedigger had archangelic[27] functions. Along with the undertaker and the gravedigger ranks the historian and others who seem to bestow132 immortality. Each is like a child planting flowers severed133 from their stalks and roots, expecting them to grow. I never heard that the butterfly loved the chrysalis; but I am sure that the caterpillar134 looks forward to an endless day of eating green leaves and of continually swelling until it would despise a consummation of the size of a railway train. We can do the work of the universe though we shed friends and country and house and clothes and flesh, and become invisible to mortal eyes and microscopes. We do it now invisibly, and it is not these things which are us at all. That maid walking so proudly is about the business of eternity.
And yet it would be vain to pretend not to care about the visible many-coloured raiment of which our houses, our ships, our gardens, our books are part, since they also have their immortal130 selves and their everlasting135 place, else should we not love them with more than sight and hearing and touch. For flesh loves flesh and soul loves soul. Yet on this March day the supreme136 felicity is born of the two loves, so closely interwoven that it is permitted to forget the boundaries of the two, and for soul to love flesh and flesh to love soul. And this ancient child is rid of his dishonours137 and flits through the land floating on a thin reed of the immortal laughter. This is “not altogether fool.” He is perchance playing some large necessary part in the pattern woven by earth that draws the gods to lean forward out of the heavens to watch the play and say of him, as of other men, of birds, of flowers: “They also are of our company.”...
[28]
In the warm rain of the next day the chiffchaff sings among the rosy blossoms of the leafless larches139, a small voice that yet reaches from the valley to the high hill. It is a double, many times repeated note that foretells140 the cuckoo’s. In the evening the songs are bold and full, but the stems of the beeches are faint as soft columns of smoke and the columns of smoke from the cottages are like them in the still air.
Yet another frost follows, and in the dim golden light just after sunrise the shadows of all the beeches lie on the slopes, dark and more tangible141 than the trees, as if they were the real and those standing upright were the returned spirits above the dead.
Now rain falls and relents and falls again all day, and the earth is hidden under it, and as from a land submerged the songs mount through the veil. The mists waver out of the beeches like puffs142 of smoke or hang upon them or in them like fleeces caught in thorns: in the just penetrating143 sunlight the long boles of the beeches shine, and the chaffinch, the yellowhammer and the cirl bunting sing songs of blissful drowsiness144. The Downs, not yet green, rise far off and look, through the rain, like old thatched houses.
When a hot sun has dried the woods the wind beats a cloud of pollen145 like grey smoke from the yews147 on the beechen coombes which are characteristic of Hampshire. They are steep-sided bays, running and narrowing far into and up the sides of the chalk hills, and especially of those hills with which the high flinty plateau breaks down to the greensand and the plain. These steep sides are clothed with beeches, thousands of beeches interrupted[29] by the black yews that resemble caverns148 among the paler trees, or, in the spring, by the green haze of a few larches and the white flames of the beam tree buds. Sometimes a stream rises at the head of the coombe, and before its crystal is a yard wide and ankle deep over the crumbling149 chalk it is full of trout150; the sunny ripples are meshed151 like honeycomb. If there is not a stream there is a hop garden, or there is a grassy floor approached by neither road nor path and crossed only by huntsman and hounds. All the year round the coombes, dripping, green and still, are cauldrons for the making and unmaking of mists, mists that lie like solid level snow or float diaphanous152 and horizontal of airiest silk across the moon or the morning sun. The coombes breed whole families, long genealogical trees, of echoes which the child delights to call up from their light sleep; so, too, do fox and owl103 at night, and the cow on a calm evening; and as to the horn and the cry of hounds, the hangers153 entangle154 and repeat them as if they would imprison155 them for ever, so that the phantom156 exceeds the true. This is the home of the orchises and of the daintiest snails157. In spring, yellow and white and yellowish green flowers are before all the rest under the beeches—the flowers of the golden green saxifrage and delicate moschatel, the spurge and the spurge laurel, the hellebore, the white violet and wood sorrel, and the saffron-hearted primrose158 which becomes greenish in the light of its own leaves; to these must be added the yellow green of young foliage159 and of moss72. Fairest of all the white flowers is the frost flower that grows about some rotten fallen branch day after day in curls that are beyond silk, or a child’s hair, or wool when it is first[30] exposed to the sun by the shearer’s hand. Most conspicuous160 of the early green is that of the pale swords of sedge that bear purple brown feathers of flower at the end of March. The crystal wavering water, the pale green stems and ever so slightly curving blades, and the dark bloom, make the sense smart with joy. Never was ivy more luxuriant under the beeches, nor moss so powerful as where it arrays them from crown to pedestal. The lichens161, fine grey-green bushy lichens on the thorns, are as dense163 as if a tide full of them had swept through the coombe. From the topmost branches hangs the cordage of ivy and honeysuckle and clematis. The missel thrush rolls out his clear song. The woodpecker laughs his loud shaking laughter as he bounds in his flight. Among the golden green mistletoe in the old shaggy apple tree at the entrance of the coombe the blackbird sings, composing phrases all the sweeter for being strangely like some in the songs that countrymen used to sing. Earth has no dearer voice than his when it is among the chilly164 rain at the end of the light. All day there have been blue skies and parading white clouds, and no wind, with sudden invasions of violent wind and hail or rain, followed by perfected calm and warmer sun—sun which lures165 the earliest tortoise-shell butterfly to alight on the footworn flints in the path up the coombe. At last the sky seems securely blue above the hangers and a clear small star or two pricks166 through it. But, emerging from the coombe, whose sides shut out half the heavens, you see that the west has wonderfully ordered and dressed itself with pale sky and precipitous, dark, modelled clouds and vague woods, and above them the new moon. The blackbirds[31] sing, the dim Downs proceed, and the last shower’s drops glitter on the black boughs and pallid167 primroses168. Why should this ever change? At the time it seems that it can never change. A wide harmony of the brain and the earth and the sky has begun, when suddenly darker clouds are felt to have ascended169 out of the north-west and to have covered the world. The beeches roar with rain. Moon and Downs are lost. The road bubbles and glows underfoot. A distant blackbird still sings hidden in the bosom170 of the rain like an enchanter hidden by his spells....
It is April now, and when it is still dark in the woods and hedges the birds all sing together and the maze171 of song is dominated by the owl’s hoot—like a full moon of sound above myriad rippling172 noises. Every day a new invader173 takes possession of the land. The wryneck is loud and persistent174, never in harmony with other birds, a complete foreigner, and yet the ear is glad of his coming. He is heard first, not in the early morning, along a grove176 of oaks; and the whole day is his.
Then on every hand the gentle willow wrens flit and sing in the purple ash blossoms. The martins, the swallows, have each a day. One day, too, is the magpie’s: for he sits low near his mate in a thicket177 and chatters178 not aloud but low and tenderly, almost like the sedgewarbler, adding a faint plaintive180 note like the bullfinch’s, and fragments as of the linnet’s song, and chirrupings; disturbed, he flies away with chatter179 as hoarse181 as ever.
The rooks reign175 several days. They have a colony in a compact small oval beech wood that stands in a hollow[32] amidst dry grey ploughland; and from the foxy-red summits of the trees, in the most genial182 hot day, their cawings are loud and mellow183 and warm as if they were the earth’s own voice; and all the while the dew is sliding along the branches, dropping into other drops or to the ground as the birds flutter at their nests, and from time to time one triple drop catches the sun and throbs184 where it hangs like Hesperus among the small stars.
And every tender eve is the blackbird’s. He sings out at the end of the long bare ash bough. Beneath him the gloomy crystal water stirs the bronze cresses, and on the banks the white anemones185 float above the dark misty earth and under the hazel leaves yet drooping187 in their infancy188. The dark hollies189 catch the last light and shine like water. Behind all, the Downs are clear and so near that I feel as well as see the carving190 on their smooth and already green flanks. The blackbird gathers up all the low-lit beauty into one carol.
The flowers also have days to themselves, as the minute green moschatel when it is first found among the hedgerow roots, or the violets when, white and pale purple, they are smelt191 and then seen bowed with dew in the weedy sainfoin field which the chain harrow passed over but a few days before. Another notable day is when the junipers are perfectly coloured by their sloe-blue, or palest green, but chiefly grey, small berries. Another, a very great day, belongs to the willows192, when their crowded fragrant193 catkins are yellow against the burning blue and all murmurous194 with bees. And the briers have their day when their green is a vivid flame in a gloomy air, against a dark immense wood and sepia sky. There is, too, a[33] solitary195 maimed sycamore in one of the coombes that has a glorious hour when it stands yellow-green in separate masses of half-opened leaf, motionless and languid in the first joy of commerce with the blue air, yet glowing.
One morning, very early, when the moon has not set and all the fields are cold and dewy and the woods are still massed and harbouring the night, though a few thorns stand out from their edge in affrighted virgin196 green, and dim starry197 thickets198 sigh a moment and are still, suddenly the silence of the chalky lane is riven and changed into a song. First, it is a fierce impetuous downfall of one clear note repeated rapidly and ending wilfully199 in mid-burst. Then it is a full-brimmed expectant silence passing into a long ascendant wail200, and almost without intervals another and another, which has hardly ceased when it is dashed out of the memory by the downpour of those rapidly repeated notes, their abrupt201 end and the succeeding silence. The swift notes are each as rounded and as full of liquid sweetness as a grape, and they are clustered like the grape. But they are wild and pure as mountain water in the dawn. They are also like steel for coldness and penetration202. And their onset203 is like nothing else: it is the nightingale’s. The long wail is like a shooting star: even as that grows out of the darkness and draws a silver line and is no more, so this glides204 out of the silence and curves and is no more. And yet it does not die, nor does that liquid onset. They and their ghosts people each hanging leaf in the hazel thicket so that the silence is closely stored. Other notes are shut in the pink anemone186, in the white stitchwort under and[34] about the hazels, and in the drops of dew that begin to glitter in the dawn.
Beautiful as the notes are for their quality and order, it is their inhumanity that gives them their utmost fascination205, the mysterious sense which they bear to us that earth is something more than a human estate, that there are things not human yet of great honour and power in the world. The very first rush and the following wail empty the brain of what is merely human and leave only what is related to the height and depth of the whole world. Here for this hour we are remote from the parochialism of humanity. The bird has admitted a larger air. We breathe deeply of it and are made free citizens of eternity. We hear voices that were not dreamed of before, the voices of those spirits that live in minute forms of life, the spirits that weave the frost flower on the fallen branch, the gnomes206 of underground, those who care for the fungus on the beech root, the lichen162 on the trunk, the alg? on the gravestone. This hazel lane is a palace of strange pomp in an empire of which we suddenly find ourselves guests, not wholly alien nor ill at ease, though the language is new. Drink but a little draught207 of this air and no need is there to fear the ways of men, their mockery, their cruelty, their foreignness.
The song rules the cloudy dawn, the waiting ranges of hills and their woods full of shadows yet crested208 with gold, their lawns of light, the soft distended210 grey clouds all over the sky through which the white sun looks on the world and is glad. But it has ceased when the perpendicular shafts211 of rain divide the mists over the hillside woods and the pewits tangle65 their flight through the air[35] that is now alive with the moist gleaming of myriads212 of leaves on bramble, thorn and elder. Presently the rain is only a glittering of needles in the sun. For the sky is all one pale grey cloud, darker at the lowest edge where it trails upon the downs and veils their summits, except in the south-east. There the edge is lifted up over a narrow pane213 of silver across which fleet the long slender fringes of the clouds. Through this pane the sun sends a broad cascade214 of light, and up into this the fields and the Down beyond rise and are transfigured, the fields into a lake of emerald, the Down—here crowned by trees in a cluster—into a castle of pearl set upon the borders of the earth. Slowly this pane is broadened; the clouds are plumped into shape, are illumined, are distinguished215 from one another by blue vales of sky, until at length the land is all one gleam of river and pool and grass and leaf and polished bough, whether swollen216 into hills or folded into valleys or smoothed into plain. The sky seems to belong to this land, the sky of purest blue and clouds that are moulded like the Downs themselves but of snow and sun.
In the clear air each flower stands out with separate and perfect beauty, moist, soft and bright, a beauty than which I know nothing more nearly capable of transferring the soul to the days and the pleasures of infancy. The crust of half a lifetime falls away, and we can feel what Blake expressed when he wrote those lines in Milton—
Thou perceivest the flowers put forth their precious odours,
And none can tell how from so small a centre comes such sweet,
Forgetting that within that centre Eternity expands
Its ever-during doors, that Og and Anax fiercely guard.
[36]
Joy even to tears, which the Sun rising dries; first the Wild Thyme
And Meadow-sweet, downy and soft, waving among the reeds,
Light springing in the air, lead the sweet Dance; they wake
Opens her many lovely eyes; listening the Rose still sleeps.
None dare to wake her. Soon she bursts her crimson-curtained bed
The Jonquil, the mild Lily opes her heavens; every Tree
And Flower and Herb soon fill the air with an innumerable Dance,
Yet all in order sweet and lovely....
Those words or such a morning—when the soul steps back many years; or is it many centuries?—might have moved M. Maeterlinck to his descriptions of certain great moments in the lives of plants. The terms of these descriptions are so chosen as to imply an intelligence and discriminating222 vital energy in plants. They prove and explain nothing, but they take one step towards the truth by disturbing the conventional scientific view and substituting that of a man who, passionately223 looking at many forms of life, finds them to be of one family. After this, it should be more and more difficult for men to think of flowers as if they were fragile toys from an exceptionally brilliant manufacturer.
And now there is a day of sun and high blue sky alternating with low, grey-yellow sky and driving snow that chequers the northern sides of the furrows and the beech boles. The sun melts the snow and all is clear,[37] bright and cold, and the sky blue again with white and lofty clouds; many thrushes are singing; the broad vale is all one blue moorland that has buried its houses, and the Downs at the far side are close at hand. Towards evening the wind falls, and it is a glimpse of another world that is given as the sun is warm for a moment on a low curving slope of wet grass, with tall rookery beeches glowing on one hand and on the other bulging224 white clouds just emerging from behind the green edge into the blue, while very far away the Downs, both grass and wood, are deep blue under a broad pane of yellowish light.
The north wind makes walking weather, and the earth is stretched out below us and before us to be conquered. Just a little, perhaps, of the warrior’s joy at seeing an enemy’s fair land from the hill-top is mingled225 with the joy in the unfolding landscape. The ploughlands brighten over twenty miles of country, pale and dry, among dark woods and wooded hills; for the wind has crumbled226 the soil almost white, so that a sudden local sunlight will make one field seem actually of snow. The old road following a terrace of the hillside curves under yews away from the flinty arable227 and the grey, dry desolation round about the poultry-farmer’s iron house, to the side of a rich valley of oak and ash and deepening pastures traversed by water in a glitter. The green fire of the larch138 woods is yellow at the crest209. There and in oak and ash the missel thrush is an embodiment of the north wind, summing it up in the boldness of his form and singing, as a coat of arms sums up a history. Mounted on the plume228 of the top of the tall fir, and waving with it, he sings of adventure,[38] and puts a spirit into those who pass under and adds a mile to their pace. The gorse is in flower. In the hedges the goose-grass has already set its ladders against the thorns, ladders that will soon have risen to the top of every hedge like scaling ladders of an infinite army. Down from tall yew146 and ash hang the abandoned ropes of last year’s traveller’s joy that have leapt that height—who has caught them in the leap?—but the new are on their way, and even the old show what can be done as they sway from the topmost branches. At sunset an immense and bountiful land lies at our feet and the wine-red sun is pouring out large cups of conquest. The undulating ploughland is warm in the red light, and it is broken up by some squares of old brown stubble and of misty young wheat, and lesser229 green squares full of bleating230 and tinkling231 sheep. Out of these fields the dense beech copses rise sheer. Beyond, in the west, are ridges232 of many woods in misty conflagration233; in the south-west, the line of the Downs under the level white clouds of a spacious234 and luminous sky. In the south, woods upon the hills are dissolving into a deep blue smoke, without form except at their upper edges. And in the north and north-west the high lands of Berkshire and Wiltshire are prostrate235 and violet through thirty miles of witching air. That also is a call to go on and on and over St. Catherine’s Hill and through Winchester until the brain is drowsed with the colours of night and day.
The colour of the dawn is lead and white—white snow falling out of a leaden sky to the white earth. The rose branches bend in sharper and sharper curves to the ground, the loaded yew sprays sweep the snow with white plumes236.[39] On the sedges the snow is in fleeces; the light strands237 of clematis are without motion, and have gathered it in clots238. One thrush sings, but cannot long endure the sound of his unchallenged note; the sparrows chirrup in the ricks; the blackbird is waiting for the end of that low tingling239 noise of the snow falling straight in windless air.
At mid-day the snow is finer and almost rain, and it begins to pour down from its hives among the branches in short showers or in heavy hovering240 lumps. The leaves of ivy and holly are gradually exposed in all their gloomy polish, and out bursts the purple of the ash buds and the yellow of new foliage. The beech stems seem in their wetness to be made of a dark agate241. Out from their tops blow rags of mist, and not far above them clouds like old spiders’ webs go rapidly by.
The snow falls again and the voices of the little summer birds are buried in the silence of the flakes242 that whirl this way and that aimlessly, rising and falling and crossing or darting243 horizontally, making the trees sway wearily and their light tops toss and their numbers roar continually in the legions of the wind that whine244 and moan and shriek245 their hearts out in the solitary house roofs and doors and round about. The silence of snow co-exists with this roar. One wren84 pierces it with a needle of song and is gone. The earth and sky are drowning in night and snow.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
frenzied
|
|
| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
bough
|
|
| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
boughs
|
|
| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
pliant
|
|
| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
lashing
|
|
| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
twigs
|
|
| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
marsh
|
|
| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
luminous
|
|
| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
foam
|
|
| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
fungus
|
|
| n.真菌，真菌类植物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
indented
|
|
| adj.锯齿状的，高低不平的；缩进排版 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
chestnut
|
|
| n.栗树，栗子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
transparent
|
|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
perch
|
|
| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
lark
|
|
| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
larks
|
|
| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
watery
|
|
| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
furrows
|
|
| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
haze
|
|
| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
exhales
|
|
| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的第三人称单数 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
crunching
|
|
| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
pony
|
|
| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
stature
|
|
| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
bleached
|
|
| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
lustre
|
|
| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
joyous
|
|
| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
maker
|
|
| n.制造者，制造商 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
urn
|
|
| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
robin
|
|
| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
forerunners
|
|
| n.先驱( forerunner的名词复数 )；开路人；先兆；前兆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
mingle
|
|
| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
dykes
|
|
| abbr.diagonal wire cutters 斜线切割机n.堤( dyke的名词复数 )；坝；堰；沟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
precipice
|
|
| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
mole
|
|
| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
rebounds
|
|
| 反弹球( rebound的名词复数 )； 回弹球； 抢断篮板球； 复兴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
hop
|
|
| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
ivy
|
|
| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
holly
|
|
| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
moth
|
|
| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
azure
|
|
| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
rumbling
|
|
| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
beeches
|
|
| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
beech
|
|
| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
meek
|
|
| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
misty
|
|
| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
willow
|
|
| n.柳树 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
underneath
|
|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
rippled
|
|
| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
glades
|
|
| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
ridgy
|
|
| adj.有脊的；有棱纹的；隆起的；有埂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
tar
|
|
| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
tangled
|
|
| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
tangle
|
|
| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
opaque
|
|
| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
milky
|
|
| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
eastward
|
|
| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
hooded
|
|
| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
grassy
|
|
| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
orchard
|
|
| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
moss
|
|
| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
perpendicular
|
|
| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
swelling
|
|
| n.肿胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
margin
|
|
| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
bland
|
|
| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
melodious
|
|
| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
musing
|
|
| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
robins
|
|
| n.知更鸟，鸫( robin的名词复数 )；（签名者不分先后，以避免受责的）圆形签名抗议书（或请愿书） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
confiding
|
|
| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
wrens
|
|
| n.鹪鹩( wren的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
wren
|
|
| n.鹪鹩；英国皇家海军女子服务队成员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
spires
|
|
| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
coaxing
|
|
| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
seething
|
|
| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
myriad
|
|
| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
awaken
|
|
| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
dispel
|
|
| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
hover
|
|
| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
consolations
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问( consolation的名词复数 )；起安慰作用的人（或事物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
persuasion
|
|
| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
glimmering
|
|
| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
pebbles
|
|
| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
windings
|
|
| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
lengthen
|
|
| vt.使伸长，延长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
piquancy
|
|
| n.辛辣，辣味，痛快 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
owls
|
|
| n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
owl
|
|
| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
hoot
|
|
| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
distends
|
|
| v.（使）膨胀，肿胀( distend的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
oblivious
|
|
| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
misused
|
|
| v.使用…不当( misuse的过去式和过去分词 )；把…派作不正当的用途；虐待；滥用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
crouching
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
wield
|
|
| vt.行使，运用，支配；挥，使用(武器等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
rivulet
|
|
| n.小溪，小河 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
boundless
|
|
| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
eternity
|
|
| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
creed
|
|
| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
naught
|
|
| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
tottering
|
|
| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
bruises
|
|
| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
thatcher
|
|
| n.茅屋匠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
gaol
|
|
| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
victuals
|
|
| n.食物；食品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
commonwealth
|
|
| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
rumour
|
|
| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
ripples
|
|
| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
immortal
|
|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
immortality
|
|
| n.不死，不朽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
bestow
|
|
| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
severed
|
|
| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
caterpillar
|
|
| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
dishonours
|
|
| 不名誉( dishonour的名词复数 )； 耻辱； 丢脸； 丢脸的人或事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
larch
|
|
| n.落叶松 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
larches
|
|
| n.落叶松（木材）( larch的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
foretells
|
|
| v.预言，预示( foretell的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
tangible
|
|
| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
puffs
|
|
| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
penetrating
|
|
| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
drowsiness
|
|
| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
pollen
|
|
| n.[植]花粉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
yew
|
|
| n.紫杉属树木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
yews
|
|
| n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
caverns
|
|
| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
crumbling
|
|
| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
trout
|
|
| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
meshed
|
|
| 有孔的，有孔眼的，啮合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
diaphanous
|
|
| adj.(布)精致的，半透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
hangers
|
|
| n.衣架( hanger的名词复数 )；挂耳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
entangle
|
|
| vt.缠住，套住；卷入，连累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
imprison
|
|
| vt.监禁，关押，限制，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
phantom
|
|
| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
snails
|
|
| n.蜗牛；迟钝的人；蜗牛( snail的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
primrose
|
|
| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
lichens
|
|
| n.地衣( lichen的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
lichen
|
|
| n.地衣, 青苔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
chilly
|
|
| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
lures
|
|
| 吸引力，魅力（lure的复数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
pricks
|
|
| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
pallid
|
|
| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
primroses
|
|
| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
ascended
|
|
| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
maze
|
|
| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
rippling
|
|
| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
invader
|
|
| n.侵略者，侵犯者，入侵者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
persistent
|
|
| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
reign
|
|
| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
grove
|
|
| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
thicket
|
|
| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
chatters
|
|
| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的第三人称单数 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
plaintive
|
|
| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
genial
|
|
| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
mellow
|
|
| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
throbs
|
|
| 体内的跳动( throb的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
anemones
|
|
| n.银莲花( anemone的名词复数 )；海葵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
anemone
|
|
| n.海葵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
drooping
|
|
| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
infancy
|
|
| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
hollies
|
|
| n.冬青（常绿灌木，叶尖而硬，有光泽，冬季结红色浆果）( holly的名词复数 )；（用作圣诞节饰物的）冬青树枝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
carving
|
|
| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
smelt
|
|
| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
willows
|
|
| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
fragrant
|
|
| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
murmurous
|
|
| adj.低声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
195
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
starry
|
|
| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
thickets
|
|
| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
wilfully
|
|
| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
wail
|
|
| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
abrupt
|
|
| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
penetration
|
|
| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
onset
|
|
| n.进攻，袭击，开始，突然开始 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
glides
|
|
| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
fascination
|
|
| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
gnomes
|
|
| n.矮子( gnome的名词复数 )；侏儒；（尤指金融市场上搞投机的）银行家；守护神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
crested
|
|
| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
crest
|
|
| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
distended
|
|
| v.（使）膨胀，肿胀( distend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
shafts
|
|
| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
myriads
|
|
| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
pane
|
|
| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
cascade
|
|
| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
swollen
|
|
| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
bosoms
|
|
| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
flaunting
|
|
| adj.招摇的，扬扬得意的，夸耀的v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
revels
|
|
| n.作乐( revel的名词复数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
majesty
|
|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
carnation
|
|
| n.康乃馨（一种花） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
discriminating
|
|
| a.有辨别能力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
bulging
|
|
| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
225
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
226
crumbled
|
|
| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
227
arable
|
|
| adj.可耕的，适合种植的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
228
plume
|
|
| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
229
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
230
bleating
|
|
| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
231
tinkling
|
|
| n.丁当作响声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
232
ridges
|
|
| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
233
conflagration
|
|
| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
234
spacious
|
|
| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
235
prostrate
|
|
| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
236
plumes
|
|
| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
237
strands
|
|
| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
238
clots
|
|
| n.凝块( clot的名词复数 )；血块；蠢人；傻瓜v.凝固( clot的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
239
tingling
|
|
| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
240
hovering
|
|
| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
241
agate
|
|
| n.玛瑙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
242
flakes
|
|
| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
243
darting
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
244
whine
|
|
| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
245
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |