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the poetry of fly fishing

early morning over the glimmerglass

ch. xix

james fenimore cooper

...The day had not yet advanced so far as to bring the sun above the horizon, but the heavens, the atmosphere, and the woods and lake, were all seen under that softening light
which immediately precedes his appearance, and which, perhaps, is the most witching period of the four-and-twenty hours. It is the moment when everything is distinct, even the atmosphere seeming to possess a liquid lucidity, the hues appearing gray and softened, with the outlines of objects diffused, and the perspective just as moral truths, that are presented in their simplicity without the
meretricious aids of ornament or glitter. In a word, it is the moment when the senses seem to recover their powers in the simplest and most accurate forms, like the mind emerging from the obscurity of doubts into the tranquility and peace of demonstration.

Early morning over Spencer Bay on Moosehead Lake

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