which all and everything must move on to eternity。
But now； somehow； sadly and disillusioned； he realized that
the doorway was no doorway。 It was too narrow； it was false。
Outside the cathedral were many flying spirits that could never
be sifted through the jewelled gloom。 He had lost his
absolute。
He listened to the thrushes in the gardens and heard a note
which the cathedrals did not include： something free and
careless and joyous。 He crossed a field that was all yellow with
dandelions； on his way to work； and the bath of yellow glowing
was something at once so sumptuous and so fresh； that he was
glad he was away from his shadowy cathedral。
There was life outside the Church。 There was much that the
Church did not include。 He thought of God； and of the whole blue
rotunda of the day。 That was something great and free。 He
thought of the ruins of the Grecian worship； and it seemed； a
temple was never perfectly a temple； till it was ruined and
mixed up with the winds and the sky and the herbs。
Still he loved the Church。 As a symbol； he loved it。 He
tended it for what it tried to represent； rather than for that
which it did represent。 Still he loved it。 The little church
across his garden…wall drew him； he gave it loving attention。
But he went to take charge of it； to preserve it。 It was as an
old； sacred thing to him