"Alas! what are we, that the laws of Nature should correspond in
their march with our ephemeral deeds or sufferings?" _The Heart
of Midlothian_.
"Man must begin, know this, where Nature ends;
Nature and man can never be fast friends."[*]
[Footnote *: _In Harmony with Nature_.]
A funeral under the sapphire sky and blazing sun of June loses
nothing of its sadness--perhaps is made more sad--by the unsympathetic
aspect of the visible world. December does not suspend its habitual
gloom because all men of goodwill are trying to rejoice in the
Birthday of the Prince of Peace. We all can recall disasters and
disappointments which have overcast the spring, and tidings of
achievement or deliverance which have been happily out of keeping
with the melancholy beauty of autumn.
In short, Nature cares nothing for the acts and sufferings of human
kind; yet, with a strange sort of affectionate obstinacy, men insist
on trying to sympathize with Nature, who declines to sympathize
with them; and now, when she spreads before our enchanted eyes all
the sweetness and promise of the land in spring, we try to bring
our thoughts into harmony with the things we see, and to forget,
though it be only for a moment, alike regrets and forebodings.
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