Little Poems in Prose

XLI THE HARBOUR A HARBOUR is a charming resting-place for a soul weary of the struggles of life. The ampli- tude of the sky, the mobile architecture of the clouds, the changing hues of the sea, the spar- kling of the lighthouses, are a prism, marvel- lously fitted to amuse the eyes without ever tiring them. The slender shapes of the ships with their complicated rigging on which the swell imprints its harmonious oscillations, serve to banquet the pleasure of rhythm and beauty in the soul. And above all, there is a sort of mysterious and aristocratic pleasure for him who has no longer either curiosity or am- bition to lie upon the terrace or to lean upon the quay and watch in contemplative mood the movements of those who come and go, of those who have still the force to will, the desire to travel or to acquire riches.