Excerpt from The Fair Irish Maid
Over the soft greenness of the Kerry headlands, over the sober grayness of the Atlantic sea, a thick mist prevailed. Its fine whiteness blurred all things out of custom, tempering harsh and familiar objects, as cabin shoulder or haystack hump, to a subtle tenuity of texture and outline that gave them a sweetness and strangeness akin to the rare visions of delicate dreams, melting them into castle and palace and pagoda of fairy-land with an elfish ease. In that mother-of-pearl atmosphere the islands that jeweled the waves between the horns of the bay and flamed with splendor of emeralds whenever the glow of sunlight quickened them, now faded, like waning lamps, one after another, into the enmeshing dimness, were, as it seemed, absorbed into the wanness of the lost kingdom that was supposed to lie beneath those waters.
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