I was partial to the room and
the company, yet neither felt nor understood the deep music. It is true
that I sang songs of my own and made my own harmonies as I wandered
over the fields and meadows. The mystic measure of the sunny waltz
haunted me happily at times, and my heart kept time to its rhythm even
as my feet had kept time in the merry dance; but it seemed to me as
though there was a lack of sense in the jingle, and a depth of feeling
untouched in me that the music of the parlor had not or could not
reach--I did not appreciate it.
It was a pleasure for Mr. Dwight to secure a quartette of singers from
the city. I could mention names, but I forbear, yet there are two faces
so indelibly linked with those most happy hours, that I must, in order
to be true to this sketch of Brook Farm life, twine them into my
narrative.
The first face was serene, charming and dignified. Its cheeks were
round and gracefully full, and colored with delicious pink, and a
dimple rounded in them when the kindly face smiled. Above them reigned
a queenly forehead, and over the brown eyes a fine brow. The nose was
straight, the upper lip short, and the features were regular. The owner
of this face was tall and graceful, and her dark, glossy hair was
combed plainly back.
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