noon
We walked on slowly up the hill together , my friend Calvin Davidson and myself , following the parti-colored group now passing out of sight behind the shrubbery . At last we paused and sat down on one of the many seats that invited us . Around us , on the great lawn , were many tropic or half-tropic plants , and the native roses , still abloom . Yonder stood the old bronze sun-dial that I knew so well -- I could have read the inscription , _ I Mark Only Pleasant Hours _ ; and I knew its penciled shadow pointed to a high and glorious noon ... . It seemed to me that Heaven had never made a more perfect place or a more perfect day ; nor , that I am sure , was ever in the universe a world more beautiful than this , more fit to swing in union with all the harmony of the spheres ... . I had fought so long , I had been so unhappy , had doubted so much , had grown so sad , so misanthropic , that I trust I shall be forgiven at this sudden joy I felt at hearing burst on my ears -- albeit a chorus of Edouard 's mocking-birds hid in the oaks -- all the music of the spheres , soul-shaking , a thing of joy and reverence ... . So I spoke but little .