^ Leaving the City
some mystic ardour of Nature, plays over the restless face of the sea. On the white awnings of the ship, the dark stamped outline of the cordage makes fantastic patterns, so clear that the pattern seems an inalienable part of the fabric ; yet in each line there is the tremor of separate life. Time and space loom infinite on a borderless horizon, and the ship moves over the trackless seas, as if impelled by some secret, universal spirit of life. The dark man at the wheel, yellow ovals of light from the compass playing on his face; the lonely officer on the bridge ; the droning voice, of the watchman ; the clang of the ship's hells ; seem Jike the simulacra of some hidden reality, phantoms of something else that is.
DAY UPON THE THRESHOLD
Dawn breaks off the Tavoy coast, a symphony in purple. The sea, the Moscos islands, the mountains of the coast, the violet sky still lit by the full orb of the