The night-hawk heightened all the harmony and stillness with his oft-recurring, discordant jar.
Numberless unknown sounds came out of the unknown dusk; but all were of twilight-kind, oppressing the heart as with a condensed atmosphere of dreamy undefined love and longing.

The odours of night arose, and bathed me in that luxurious mournfulness peculiar to them, as if the plants whence they floated had been watered with bygone tears.

Earth drew me towards her bosom; I felt as if I could fall down and kiss her.

I forgot I was in Fairy Land, and seemed to be walking in a perfect night of our own old nursing earth.

Great stems rose about me, uplifting a thick multitudinous roof above me of branches, and twigs, and leaves--the bird and insect world uplifted over mine, with its own landscapes, its own thickets, and paths, and glades, and dwellings; its own bird-ways and insect-delights.