Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія

           Foratime,hispenseemedtotravelofitself;wordscametohimwithoutsearching,shapingthemselvesintophrases,—thephrasesbuildingthemselvesuptogreat,forciblesentences,fullofeloquence,offire,ofpassion.Ashisprosegrewmoreexalted,itpassedeasilyintothedomainofpoetry.Soonthecadenceofhisparagraphssettledtoanorderedbeatandrhythm,andintheendPresleyhadthrustasidehisjournalandwasoncemorewritingverse.

           Hepickeduphisincompletepoemof“TheToilers,”readithastilyacoupleoftimestocatchitsswing,thentheIdeaofthelastverse—theIdeaforwhichhesolonghadsoughtinvain—abruptlyspringingtohisbrain,wroteitoffwithoutsomuchasreplenishinghispenwithink.Headdedstillanotherverse,bringingthepoemtoadefiniteclose,resumingitsentireconception,andendingwithasinglemajesticthought,simple,noble,dignified,absolutelyconvincing.

           Presleylaiddownhispenandleanedbackinhischair,withthecertaintythatforonemomenthehadtoucheduntrodheights.Hishandswerecold,hisheadonfire,hisheartleapingtumultuousinhisbreast.

           Nowatlast,hehadachieved.Hesawwhyhehadnevergraspedtheinspirationforhisvast,vague,IMPERSONALSongoftheWest.Atthetimewhenhesoughtforit,hisconvictionshadnotbeenaroused;hehadnotthencaredforthePeople.Hissympathieshadnotbeentouched.Smallwonderthathehadmissedit.NowhewasofthePeople;hehadbeenstirredtohislowestdepths.Hisearnestnesswasalmostafrenzy.HeBELIEVED,andsotohimallthingswerepossibleatonce.