![]() ![]() Its long beams pour, white and sharp, between the trunks of trees, their clarity fading as they recede into the powdery, misty distance of beech woods at night. It falls upon the banks and the grass, separating one long blade from another turning a drift of brown, frosted leaves from a single heap to innumerable flashing fragments or glimmering lengthways along wet twigs as though light itself were ductile. We need daylight and to that extent it us utilitarian, but moonlight we do not need. Where it is to be found it is something extra, a beautiful ornament. Water is necessary to us, but a waterfall is not. Clouds may obscure it to an extent to which they cannot obscure daylight. Stubbs may have envisaged the skeleton inside the horse, but most of us do not: and we do not usually envisage the downs without daylight, even though the light is not a part of the down itself as the hide is part of the horse itself. When we think of the downs, we think of the downs in daylight, as with think of a rabbit with its fur on. ![]() Daylight, even when the sun is clear of clouds, seems to us simply the natural condition of the earth and air. We are not conscious of daylight as that which displaces darkness. ![]() “The full moon, well risen in a cloudless eastern sky, covered the high solitude with its light. ![]()
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