Breakers and Granite

Breakers and Granite

by John Gould Fletcher
     
 

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This is an EXACT reproduction of a book published before 1923. This IS NOT an OCR'd book with strange characters, introduced typographical errors, and jumbled words. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process.… See more details below

Overview

This is an EXACT reproduction of a book published before 1923. This IS NOT an OCR'd book with strange characters, introduced typographical errors, and jumbled words. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
2940026695843
Publisher:
Macmillan Publishing Company, Incorporated
Sold by:
Barnes & Noble
Format:
NOOK Book
File size:
0 MB

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NEW ENGLAND SUNSET The sky, blue of metal, through which the sun blows in passing many a hammered petal of gold, rose, vermilion, from its frozen lips. The water deepest blue of sapphires, glancing flint-shaped play of wavelets out of which the sun strikes coppery fires. The earth smooth blue of granite; bald scarps undulating, modulating; brown, grey-brown, blue-grey and blue. The trees brittle coral, blue and silver, birch and maple, crackling, shaking thinner than coral ever grew. Gurgle, boom, surge: the sea is scouring and worrying the granite. All day long under the wind that roars down from northeastward, the tide has been rising: wrinkled waves of bluish steel tipped with magic sprays of ice. The shallow water clashes and falls in tinkling crystals and waterfalls over the shaggy jagged sides. The tide is not yet fully risen although it is near sunset. In the west a few dull smoky-purple clouds resist yet the full flood of trebly refined light which the sun is pouring still from a gap between the hills. Surge, boom and gurgle: the granite rocks and thrills. From far away, the upheaved boulders, tossed and scattered up the hillside, look to a city that was builded with narrow lanes and houses pressing downwards to the sea. One can almost trace the fretted lines of chimneys, almost see the rising coils of smoke. Rusty lichens spot the granite rocks with scarlet smudges, masses of crumbled earth upsurge amid them. Yonder is one that is grey and barren, towering like a monument. Besides it is another, golden on top and curved like a dome by some forgotten architect. There is another deep brown and squat, like the church of some dead sect. Through the fantastic playof sunlight and wind over their surfaces, maybe pulses and plays the life of some strange deity. The few...

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