seven o'clock
Calliope sat silent , with her way of sighing and looking by ; and it was as if she had suggested to me delicate things , as a rainbow will suggest them . I divined the birches , blurred gray and white against the fog-bound cedars . In the haze the airy trunks , because of their imminence , bore the reality of thought , but the sterner green sank in the distance to the faint avail of speech . It was well to be walking on the Plank Road toward seven o'clock of a June morning , in a mist which might yield fellowship in the same ease with which it breathed on distinctions . Abel had told how , on that winter way of his among the hills , the sky has fallen in the fog and had surrendered to him a fellowship of dreams . But in Friendship Village , as I had often thought , there are dreams for every one ; how should it be otherwise to us faring up and down Daphne Street -LRB- where Daphne 's feet have been -RRB- ? And yet that morning on the Plank Road where , if the fancy seized her to walk in beauty , our lady of the laurels might be met at any moment , her power seemed to me to be as frail as wings , and I thought that it would not greatly matter if I were to meet her .