Explore "At large" by A.C. Benson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I suppose that every one knows by experience how certain days in one's life have a power of standing out in the memory, even in a tract of pleasant days, all lit by a particular brightness of joy. One does not always know at the time that the day is going to be so crowned; but the weeks pass on, and the one little space of sunlight, between dawn and eve, has orbed itself
"into the perfect star / We saw not, when we moved therein."