Chapter I: HAVE no “at home” day. I confess it reluctantly, knowing what a state (3)

I cannot tell, but it stirs something strangely responsive in my own heart; I sense far-back things that I cannot take hold of, or put into tangible shape, and for the moment I feel mysteriously akin to the unseen singer in the blue-green depths of the old and rugged pine.

VII

Only Small Talk