Coleridge;--while, as I was saying, the lovely
little rivers whose fountains are the clouds, and which cut their
own channels through the air, and make sweet noises rubbing against
their banks as they hurry down and down, until at length they are
pulled up on a sudden, with a musical plash, in the very heart of an
odorous flower, that first gasps and then sighs up a blissful scent,
or on the bald head of a stone that never says, Thank you;--while
the very sheep felt it blessing them, though it could never reach
their skins through the depth of their long wool, and the veriest
hedgehog--I mean the one with the longest spikes--came and spiked
himself out to impale as many of the drops as he could;--while the
rain was thus falling, and the leaves, and the flowers, and the
sheep, and the cattle, and the hedgehog, were all busily receiving
the golden rain, something happened. It was not a great battle, nor
an earthquake, nor a coronation, but something more important than
all those put together. A BABY-GIRL WAS BORN; and her father was a
king; and her mother was a queen; and her uncles and aunts were
princes and princesses; and her first-cousins were dukes and
duchesses; and not one of her second-cousins was less than a marquis
or marchioness, or of their third-cousins less than an earl or
countess: and below a countess they did not care to count.
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