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I loved。 There is little indeed in the more immediate suburbs
of London to gratify the sense of the beautiful。 Yet there was a cedar by
which I used to walk up and down； and think the
same thoughts as under the great oak in the solitude of the sunlit meadows。
In the course of slow time happier circumstances brought us together again；
and； though near London； at a spot where there was easy access to meadows
and woods。 Hills that purify those who walk on them there were
not。 Still I thought my old thoughts。
I was much in London； and； engagements completed； I wandered about in the
same way as in the woods of former days。 From the
stone bridges I looked down on the river； the gritty dust； the
straws that lie on the bridges； flew up and whirled round with
every gust from the flowing tide； gritty dust that settles in
the nostrils and on the lips； the very residuum of all that is
repulsive in the greatest city of the world。 The noise of the
traffic and the constant pressure from the crowds passing；
their incessant and disjointed talk； could not distract me。 One moment at
least I had； a moment when I thought of the push of the great sea forcing
the water to flow under the feet of these crowds； the distant sea strong and
splendid； when I saw the sunlight gleam on the tidal wavelets； when I felt
the wind； and was conscious of the earth； the sea； the sun； the air； the
immense forces working on； while the city hummed by the river。 Nature was
deepened by the crowds and foot…worn stones。 If the tide had ebbed； and the
masts of the vessels were tilted as the hulls rested on the shelving mud；
still even the blackened mud did not prevent me seeing the water as water
flowing to the sea。 The sea had drawn down； and the wavelets washing the
strand here as they hastened were running the faster to it。 Eastwards from
London Bridge the river raced to the ocean。
The bright morning sun of summer heated the eastern parapet of
London Bridge； I stayed in the recess to acknowledge it。 The
smooth water was a broad sheen of light； the built…up river
flowed calm and silent by a thousand doors； rippling only where
the stream chafed against a chain。 Red pennants drooped； gilded
vanes gleamed on polished masts； black…pitched hulls glistened
like a black rook's feathers in sunlight； the clear air cut out
the forward angles of the warehouses； the shadowed wharves were
quiet in shadows that carried light； far down the ships that
were hauling out moved in repose； and with the stream floated
away into the summer mist。 There was a faint blue colour in the
air hovering between the built…up banks； against the lit walls；
in the hollows of the houses。 The swallows wheeled and climbed； twittered
and glided downwards。 Burning on； the great sun stood in the sky； heating
the parapet； glowing steadfastly upon me as when I rested in the narrow
valley grooved out in prehistoric
times。 Burning on steadfast； and ever present as my thought。
Lighting the broad river； the broad walls； lighting the least speck of dust；
lighting the great heaven； gleaming on my
finger…nail。 The fixed point of daythe sun。 I was intensely
conscious of it； I felt it； I felt the presence of the immense
powers of the universe； I felt out into the depths of the ether。 So
intensely conscious of the sun； the sky； the limitless space； I felt too in
the midst of eternity then； in the midst of the supernatural； among the
immortal； and the greatness of the material realised the spirit。 By these I
saw my soul； by these I knew the supernatural to be more intensely real than
the sun。 I touched the supernatural； the immortal； there that moment。
When； weary of walking on the pavements； I went to rest in the
National Gallery； I sat and rested before one or other of the
human pictures。 I am not a picture lover： they are flat surfaces； but those
that I call human are nevertheless
beautiful。 The knee in Daphnis and Chloe and the breast are
like living things； they draw the heart towards them； the heart
must love them。 I lived in looking； without beauty there is no
life for me； the divine beauty of flesh is life itself to me。
The shoulder in the Surprise； the rounded rise of the bust； the
exquisite tints of the ripe skin； momentarily gratified the sea…
thirst in me。 For I thirst with all the thirst of the salt sea；
and the sun…heated sands dry for the tide； with all the sea I
thirst for beauty。 And I know full well that one lifetime；
however long； cannot fill my heart。 My throat and tongue and
whole body have often been parched and feverish dry with
this measureless thirst； and again moist to the fingers' ends
like a sappy bough。 It burns in me as the sun burns in the
sky。
The glowing face of Cytherea in Titian's Venus and Adonis； the
heated cheek； the lips that kiss each eye that gazes on them；
the desiring glance； the golden hairsunbeams moulded into
featuresthis face answered me。 Juno's wide back and mesial
groove； is any thing so lovely as the back ？ Cythereals poised
hips unveiled for judgment； these called up the same thirst I
felt on the green sward in the sun； on the wild beach listening
to the quiet sob as the summer wave drank at the land。 I will
search the world through for beauty。 I came here and sat to
rest before these in the days when I could not afford to buy so
much as a glass of ale； weary and faint from walking on stone
pavements。 I came later on； in better times； often straight
from labours which though necessary will ever be distasteful； always to rest
my heart with loveliness。 I go still； the divine beauty of flesh is life
itself to me。 It was； and is； one of my London pilgrimages。
Another was to the Greek sculpture galleries in the British
Museum。 The statues are not； it is said； the best； broken too； and
mutilated； and seen in a dull； commonplace light。 But they were
shapedivine shape of man and woman； the form of limb and torso； of bust
and neck； gave me a sighing sense of rest。 These were they who would have
stayed with me under the shadow of the
oaks while the blackbirds fluted and the south air swung the
cowslips。 They would have walked with me among the reddened
gold of the wheat。 They would have rested with me on the hill…tops and in
the narrow valley grooved of ancient times。 They would have listened with me
to the sob of the summer sea drinking theland。 These had thirsted of sun；
and earth；
and sea； and sky。 Their shape spoke this thirst and desire like
mineif I had lived with them from Greece till now
I should not have had enough of them。 Tracing the form of limb and torso
with the eye gave me a sense of rest。
Sometimes I came in from the crowded streets and ceaseless hum；
one glance at these shapes and I became myself。 Sometimes I came from the
Reading…room； where under the dome I often looked up from the desk and
realised the crushing hopelessness of books； useless； not equal to one
bubble borne along on the running brook I had walked by； giving no thought
like the spring when I lifted the water in my hand and saw the light gleam
on it。 Torso and limb； bust and neck instantly returned me to myself； I felt
as I did lying on the turf listening to the wind among the grass；