The listening trees of the forest heard the rushing of his flowing
mantle as he descended from his throne on the crest of the hill; and
ever since, this has been the language of the tree-tops. If one will sit
on the mossy bank of a little brook near by a full-leaved forest, he may
even now fancy that Vanemuine is come again to earth.
Some of the larger creatures took up the deeper tones of the heavy harp
strings, and their language is now full of these sounds. Others loved
the melody of the lighter strings, and this softer music is ever in
their voices.
In his great joy Vanemuine sang songs never before heard on the earth,
and the listening nightingale caught their meaning, never to forget.
When you hear the nightingale pour out its song in the dusk of evening
hours, you hear an echo of the song the nightingale heard upon the
Hill of Taara.
Vanemuine sang of love and of the beautiful springtime. The happy lark
heard and understood, and the sweetest tones of the song she sings over
and over with each returning morning. As she soars higher and higher
into the clear air, she sings her song, trying to tell the whole world
of the love and beauty of which she heard so long ago.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69