noon
Wakeful , but not anxious , love woke imagination . The stirring of spring in this delicious land stirred all her eager faculties , and almost as naturally as a bird pours forth its treasure of music she poured forth her treasure , not only of love but of thought . For in such a nature as hers love prompts thought , not stifles it . In their long mountain walks , in their rides on muleback to distant villages , hidden in the recesses , or perched upon the crests of the rocks , in their quiet hours under the oak-trees when the noon wrapped all things in its cloak of gold , or on the terrace when the stars came out , and the shepherds led their flocks down to the valleys with little happy tunes , Hermione gave out all the sensitive thoughts , desires , aspirations , all the wonder , all the rest that beauty and solitude and nearness to nature in this isle of the south woke in her . She did not fear to be subtle , she did not fear to be trivial . Everything she noticed she spoke of , everything that the things she noticed suggested to her , she related . The sound of the morning breeze in the olive-trees seemed to her different from the sound of the breeze of evening .