BOOK II. THE SNAREThe streamlet tinkled on. She sat, gazing abouther at each familiar tree and rock. And meanwhile he was reading again from the book—
“Here, too, our shepherd-pipes we first assay’d!”
“Is that from ‘Thyrsis’?” she asked. “Read me those lines that we used, to love so much.”
And so he turned the page, and read again—
“A fugitive and gracious light he seeks, Shy to illumine; and I seek it, too. This does not come with houses or with gold, With place, with honor, and a flattering crew: ‘Tis not in the world’s market bought and sold— But the smooth-slipping weeks Drop by, and leave its seeker still untired; Out of the heed of mortals he is gone, He wends unfollow’d, he must house alone; Yet on he fares, by his own heart inspired.”
Section 1. On thetrain Corydon was writing
