eight o'clock
And over there , how hot the poppies were already beginning to look -- blazing back boldly in the face of the sun , flashing back fire for fire . I crossed the wet grass to the hammock under the beech on the lawn , and lay in it awhile trying to swing in time to the nightingale 's tune ; and then I walked round the ice-house to see how Goethe 's corner looked at such an hour ; and then I went down to the fir wood at the bottom of the garden where the light was slanting through green stems ; and everywhere there was the same mystery , and emptiness , and wonder . When four o'clock drew near I set off home again , not desiring to meet gardeners and have my little hour of quiet talked about , still less my dressing-gown and slippers ; so I picked a bunch of roses and hurried in , and just as I softly bolted the door , dreadfully afraid of being taken for a burglar , I heard the first water-cart of the day creaking round the corner . Fearfully I crept up to my room , and when I awoke at eight o'clock and saw the roses in a glass by my side , I remembered what had happened as though it had been years ago . Now here I have had an experience that I shall not soon forget , something very precious , and private , and close to my soul ; a feeling as though I had taken the world by surprise , and seen it as it really is when off its guard -- as though I had been quite near to the very core of things . The quiet holiness of that hour seems all the more mysterious now , because soon after breakfast yesterday the wind began to blow from the northwest , and has not left off since , and looking out of the window I can not believe that it is the same garden , with the clouds driving over it in black layers , and angry little showers every now and then bespattering its harassed and helpless inhabitants , who can not pull their roots up out of the ground and run for their lives , as I am sure they must long to do . How discouraging for a plant to have just proudly opened its loveliest flowers , the flowers it was dreaming about all the winter and working at so busily underground during the cold weeks of spring , and then for a spiteful shower of five minutes ' duration to come and pelt them down , and batter them about , and cover the tender , delicate things with irremediable splashes of mud !