serene as
he did
then. I
used to
fancy, as
I sat by
him of an
evening,
on a green
slope, and
saw him
watch the
kite high
in the
quiet air,
that it
lifted his
mind out
of its
confusion,
and bore
it (such
was my
boyish
thought)
into the
skies. As
he wound
the string
in and it
came lower
and lower
down out
of the
beautiful
light,
until it
fluttered
to the
ground,
and lay
there like
a dead
thing, he
seemed to
wake
gradually
out of a
dream; and
I remember
