OUTSIDE LONDON

ON THE LONDON ROAD

RED ROOFS OF LONDON

A WET NIGHT IN LONDON




SAINT GUIDO


St. Guido ran out at the garden gate into a sandy lane, and down the lane
till he came to a grassy bank. He caught hold of the bunches of grass and
so pulled himself up. There was a footpath on the top which went straight
in between fir-trees, and as he ran along they stood on each side of him
like green walls. They were very near together, and even at the top the
space between them was so narrow that the sky seemed to come down, and
the clouds to be sailing but just over them, as if they would catch and
tear in the fir-trees. The path was so little used that it had grown
green, and as he ran he knocked dead branches out of his way. Just as he
was getting tired of running he reached the end of the path, and came out
into a wheat-field. The wheat did not grow very closely, and the spaces
were filled with azure corn-flowers. St. Guido thought he was safe away
now, so he stopped to look.

Those thoughts and feelings which are not sharply defined but have a haze
of distance and beauty about them are always the dearest. His name was