four o'clock
No , no ; what I remember is just one moment of my earlier life , linked by accident with that picture of the Suffolk landscape . The place no longer exists ; it never existed save for me . For it is the mind which creates the world about us , and , even though we stand side by side in the same meadow , my eyes will never see what is beheld by yours , my heart will never stir to the emotions with which yours is touched . I awoke a little after four o'clock . There was sunlight upon the blind , that pure gold of the earliest beam which always makes me think of Dante 's angels . I had slept unusually well , without a dream , and felt the blessing of rest through all my frame ; my head was clear , my pulse beat temperately . And , when I had lain thus for a few minutes , asking myself what book I should reach from the shelf that hangs near my pillow , there came upon me a desire to rise and go forth into the early morning .