I could not
bear the long day before me; and I tried to sleep again; yet still I heard
the feet upon the pavement. And suddenly I heard them cry loud as they
beat, "We are seeking!--we are seeking!--we are seeking!" and the broken
barrel-organ at the street corner sobbed, "The Beautiful!--the Beautiful!--
the Beautiful!" And my heart, which had been dead, cried out with every
throb, "Love!--Truth!--the Beautiful!--the Beautiful!" It was the music I
had heard in Heaven that I could not sing there.
And fully I awoke.
Upon the faded quilt, across my bed a long yellow streak of pale London
sunlight was lying. It fell through my narrow attic window.
I laughed. I rose.
I was glad the long day was before me.
Paris and London.
End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Dreams, by Olive Schreiner
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