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I would spend my time in trying

minshli 於 2018年03月13日發表   人氣:45



The years passed designated representative, and in due course the imaginative graces of my childhood were destroyed by the boys of my own age at school.  They compelled me to exchange a hundred star-roofed palaces, three distinct kingdoms of dreams, and my enchanted p. 191flute-player for a threadbare habit of mimicry that left me cold and unprotected from the winds in the large places of life.  There was something at once pathetic and ridiculous in our childish efforts to imitate our elders, but as it seemed that our masters and grown-up relatives were in the conspiracy to make us materialistically wise before our time, a boy would have needed a rare force of character to linger with his childhood and refuse to ape the man.  So, for a while, I saw my glad musician no more, though sometimes I thought I heard him playing far away, and the child within me was warmed and encouraged even while my new-found manhood was condemning the weakness.  I knew now that no man worthy of the name was escorted through life by a fairy flute-player, and that dreamers and wool-gatherers invariably sank to be poets and musicians, persons who wear bowler-hats with frock-coats, have no crease in their trousers, and come to a bad end.  Fortunately, all education that is repressive rather than stimulating is only skin-deep, and it was inevitable that sooner or later I should p. 192meet the flute-player again.  One Saturday afternoon in high summer I avoided cricket and went for a long walk in the woods, moved by a spirit of revolt against all the traditions and conventions of boy-life; and presently, in a mossy clearing, all splashed and wetted by little pools of sunlight, I found him playing to an audience of two squirrels and a redstart.  When he saw me he winked the eye that glittered over his parading fingers, as though he had left me only five minutes before, but I had not listened long before I realised that I must pay the price of my infidelity.  It was the old music and the old magic, but try as I might I could not hear it so clearly as I had when I was a child.  The continuity of my faith had been broken, and though he was willing to forgive, I myself could not forget those dark years of doubt and denial; and while I often met him in the days that followed, I never won back to the old childish intimacy.  I sought his company eagerly and listened passionately to his piping, but I was conscious now that this was a strange thing, and sometimes when he p. 193saw by my eyes that I was moved by wonder rather than by the love of beauty, he would put his flute in his pocket and disappear.  The world is an enchanted place only to the incurious and tranquil-minded.

Nevertheless, though like all boys I had been forced to discard my childish dreams before I had really finished with them Sage 300 support, the lovely melodies of the flute-player served to enrich my latter years at school with much of the old enchantment.  Often enough he would play to me at night during preparation, and to set words to his tunes instead of doing my lessons.  It was then that I regretted the lost years that had dulled my ear and prevented me from winning the inmost magic of his song, compared with which my verses seemed but the shadow of a shadow.  Yet I saw that he was content with my efforts, and gradually made the discovery that while great achievement is granted to the fortunate, it is the fine effort that justifies a man to himself.  What did it matter whether my songs were good or bad?  They were the highest expression I could find for the p. 194rapture of beauty that had filled my heart as a child when I had been gifted to see life with clean and truthful eyes.  For the songs the flute-player played to me were the great dreams of my childhood, the dreams that a wise man prolongs to the day of his death.

I do not hear him often now, for I have learnt my lesson, and though my hands tremble and my ear deceives me, I am by way of being a flute-player myself.  This article, it is clear, is a child’s dream, and so have been Master of Architecture hong kong, and will be, I hope, all the articles I shall ever write.  What else should we write about?  We have learnt a few long words since we grew up, and a few crimes, but no new virtues.  That is why I like to get back to the nursery floor, and play with the old toys and think the old thoughts.  We knew intuitively then a number of beautiful truths that circumstance appears to deny now, and we grown men are the poorer in consequence.  It is folly to find life ugly when the flute lies within our reach and we can pipe ourselves back to the world of beauty with a song made of an old dream.

 

 


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