The mansion of my soul has been housing phantoms all the night. They
may not stay after sunrise; they look out of my face with bleared
eyes. It is they who gibber and chatter thus at dawn, leaving me with
no more self-assurance than a man on ticket-of-leave.

But as the sun comes up, behold the spirits evaporate, the films pass
away from my eyes, and I am lighter, blither, happier, stronger. Then
in my heart birds begin to sing in chorus. I am myself once more.

A fire, a kettle, and while the kettle boils, into the sea, giving my
limbs to the sparkling, buoyant water. Then am I super-self, if such
an expression may be permitted. So passes the vagabond's night.

Thus somehow one comes into new harmony with Nature, and the personal
rhythm enters into connection with all things that sleep and wake
under the stars. One lives a new life. It is something like the change
from bachelor to married life. You are richer and stronger. When you
move some one else moves with you, and that was unexpected. Whilst you
live Nature lives with you.

I have written of the night, for the night hallows the day, and the
day does not hallow the night except for those who toil.




III

THE LORD'S PRAYER