A visit to the Weymouth Sands of John Cowper Powys [ ⇒ continue... ]|
It is only by this feeling of loneliness, that we can annihilate the
preposterous claims of a life of action, and return to the calm reservoirs
of earth, air, water, and fire, from which, as our soul contemplates them,
emerge those lovely essences, the constant enjoyment of which constitutes
the only indestructible ecstasy of life.
DRY SAND AND WET SAND
On the dry sand sat, in little groups, the older
people, reading, sewing,
talking to one another, while on the wet sand the children, building their
and digging their canals were far too absorbed and content to exchange more
spasmodic shouts to one another. The free play of so many radiant bare
limbs against the
sparkling foreground-water and the bluer water of the distance gave to the
scene a marvellous heathen glamour, that seemed to take it out of Time
and lift it into some ideal region of everlasting holiday, where the burden
of human toil and
the weight of human responsibility no more lay heavy upon the heart.
sands of Weymouth were imprinted by the "printless" feet, light,
of what might easily have been the purer spirit of an eternal classical
happy and free, in some divine limbo of unassailable play-time.