Excerpt from Solomon the Prince, and Solomon the Preacher: A Lecture Delivered Before the Young Men's Christian Association, in Exeter Hall, Feb, 4, 1851 There is no season of the year so exquisite as the first full burst of Summer: when east winds lose their venom, and the firmament its April fickleness; when the trees have unreefed their foliage, and under them the turf is tender; when, before going to sleep, the blackbird wakes the nightingale, and night itself is only a softer day; when the dog-star has not withered a single flower, nor the mower's scythe touched one but all is youth and freshness, novelty and hope - as if our very earth had become a bud, of which only another Eden could be the blossom - as if, with all her green canvas spread, our island were an argosie, floating over seas of balm to some bright Sabbatic haven on the shores of Immortality.
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