DOI article:
Johnson, Lionel Pigot: Tobacco clouds
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27812#0149
By Lionel Johnson 145
smoke go up, grey and blue ; the earlier stars come out, above
the sunset and the melancholy downs ; and deep, mournful bells
ring slowly among the valley trees. Then, if my day have been
successful, what peace follows, and how profound a charm ! The
little things of the day, sudden glances of light upon grey stone,
pleasant snatches of organ music from the church, quaint rustic
sights in some near village : they come back upon me, gentle
touches of happiness, airs of repose. And when the mysteries
come about me, the fearfulness of life, and the shadow of night ;
then, have I not still the blue, grey clouds,
f So I escape the tribulations of doubt, those gloomy
tribulations: and I live in the strength of dreams, which never
doubt.
Is it all a delusion ? But that is a foolish wonder : nothing is
a delusion, except the extremes of pleasure and of pain. Take
what you will of the world ; its crowds, or its calms : there is
nothing altogether wrong to every one. Lucretius, upon his
watch-tower, deny it as he may, found some exultation and
delight in the lamentable prospect below : it Ailed him with a
magnificent darkness of soul, a princely compassion at heart.
And Milton, in his evil days, felt himself to be tragic and austere :
he knew it, not as a proud boast, but as a proud fact. No ! life
is never wrong, altogether, to every one : you and 1, he and she,
priest and penitent, master and slave: one with another, we
compose a very glory of existence before the unseen Powers.
Therefore, I believe in my measured way of life ; its careful
felicities, fashioned out of little things : to you, the change of
Ministries, and the accomplishment of conquests, bring their
wealth of rich emotion : to me, who am apart from the louder
concerns of life, the dowering of the limes, and the warm autumn
rains, bring their pensive beauty and a store of memories.
Is
smoke go up, grey and blue ; the earlier stars come out, above
the sunset and the melancholy downs ; and deep, mournful bells
ring slowly among the valley trees. Then, if my day have been
successful, what peace follows, and how profound a charm ! The
little things of the day, sudden glances of light upon grey stone,
pleasant snatches of organ music from the church, quaint rustic
sights in some near village : they come back upon me, gentle
touches of happiness, airs of repose. And when the mysteries
come about me, the fearfulness of life, and the shadow of night ;
then, have I not still the blue, grey clouds,
f So I escape the tribulations of doubt, those gloomy
tribulations: and I live in the strength of dreams, which never
doubt.
Is it all a delusion ? But that is a foolish wonder : nothing is
a delusion, except the extremes of pleasure and of pain. Take
what you will of the world ; its crowds, or its calms : there is
nothing altogether wrong to every one. Lucretius, upon his
watch-tower, deny it as he may, found some exultation and
delight in the lamentable prospect below : it Ailed him with a
magnificent darkness of soul, a princely compassion at heart.
And Milton, in his evil days, felt himself to be tragic and austere :
he knew it, not as a proud boast, but as a proud fact. No ! life
is never wrong, altogether, to every one : you and 1, he and she,
priest and penitent, master and slave: one with another, we
compose a very glory of existence before the unseen Powers.
Therefore, I believe in my measured way of life ; its careful
felicities, fashioned out of little things : to you, the change of
Ministries, and the accomplishment of conquests, bring their
wealth of rich emotion : to me, who am apart from the louder
concerns of life, the dowering of the limes, and the warm autumn
rains, bring their pensive beauty and a store of memories.
Is