The folds of light and shadow everywhere were satin-rich; shadows perforce of blackness had light in them, and the light a sword-like sharpness over their edges.

It was inanimate radiance.

The laurels sparkled as with frost-points; the denser foliage dropped burning brown: a sickly saint's-ring was round the heads of the pines.

That afternoon the bee hummed of thunder, and refreshed the ear.
I pitied the horse I rode, and the dog at his heels, but for me the intensity was inspiriting.

Nothing lay in the light, I had the land to myself.