波波小说

波波小说>海伦·凯勒最著名的自传是() > 第8部分(第1页)

第8部分(第1页)

Clarence Hawkes; has been blind since childhood; yet he finds in nature

hints of binations for his mental pictures。 Out of the knowledge and

impressions that e to him he constructs a masterpiece which hangs

upon the walls of his thought。 And into the poets house e all the

true spirits of the world。

It was a rare poet who thought of the mountain as 〃the first dim outline

of Gods plan。〃 That is the real wonder of the poem; and not that a

blind man should speak so confidently of sky and sea。 Our ideas of the

sky are an accumulation of touch…glimpses; literary allusions; and the

observations of others; with an emotional blending of all。 My face feels

only a tiny portion of the atmosphere; but I go through continuous space

and feel the air at every point; every instant。 I have been told about

the distances from our earth to the sun; to the other plas; and to

the fixed stars。 I multiply a thousand times the utmost height and width

that my touch passes; and thus I gain a deep sense of the skys

immensity。

Move me along constantly over water; water; nothing but water; and you

give me the solitude; the vastness of ocean which fills the eye。 I have

been in a little sail…boat on the sea; when the rising tide swept it

toward the shore。 May I not understand the poets figure: 〃The green of

spring overflows the earth like a tide〃? I have felt the flame of a

candle blow and flutter in the breeze。 May I not; then; say: 〃Myriads of

fireflies flit hither and thither in the dew…wet grass like little

fluttering tapers〃?

bine the endless space of air; the suns warmth; the clouds that are

described to my understanding spirit; the frequent breaking through the

soil of a brook or the expanse of the wind…ruffled lake; the tactual

undulation of the hills; which I recall when I am far away from them;

the towering trees upon trees as I walk by them; the bearings that I try

to keep while others tell me the directions of the various points of the

scenery; and you will begin to feel surer of my mental landscape。 The

utmost bound to which my thought will go with clearness is the horizon

of my mind。 From this horizon I imagine the one which the eye marks。

Touch cannot bridge distance;……it is fit only for the contact of

surfaces;……but thought leaps the chasm。 For this reason I am able to use

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