A Cathedral Singer
A Cathedral Singer I Slowly on Morningside Heights rises the Cathedral of St. John the Divine: standing on a high rock under the Northern sky above the long wash of the untroubled sea, above the wash of the troubled waves of men. It has fit neighbors. Across the street to the north looms the many-towered gray-walled Hospital of St. Luke--cathedral of our ruins, of our sufferings and our dust, near the cathedral of our souls. Across the block to the south is situated a shed-like two-story building with dormer-windows and a crumpled three-sided roof, the studios of the National Academy of Design; and under that low brittle skylight youth toils over the shapes and colors of the visible vanishing paradise of the earth in the shadow of the cathedral which promises an unseen, an
due to the thickness of the glass in the prism which the light
traversed, or to the angle of incidence at which the light fell upon
the prism. He found, however, upon careful trial, that the phenomenon
could not be thus accounted for. It was not until after much patient
labour that the true explanation dawned upon him. He discovered that
though the beam of white light looks so pure and so simple, yet in
reality it is composed of differently coloured lights blended
together. These are, of course, indistinguishable in the compound
beam, but they are separated or disentangled, so to speak, by the
action of the prism. The rays at the blue end of the spectrum are
more powerfully deflected by the action of the glass than are the
rays at the red end. Thus, the rays variously coloured red, orange,
yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, are each conducted to a
different part of the screen. In this way the prism has the effect
of exhibiting the constitution of the composite beam of light.
To us this now seems quite obvious, but Newton did not adopt it
hastily. With characteristic caution he verified the explanation by
many different experiments, all of which confirmed his discovery. One
of these may be mentioned. He made a hole in the screen at that part
on which the violet rays fell. Thus a violet ray was allowed to pass
through, all the rest of the light being intercepted, and on this
beam so isolated he was able to try further experiments. For
instance, when he interposed another prism in its path, he found, as
he expected, that it was again deflected, and he measured the amount
of the deflection. Again he tried the same experiment with one of
A Cathedral Singer I Slowly on Morningside Heights rises the Cathedral of St. John the Divine: standing on a high rock under the Northern sky above the long wash of the untroubled sea, above the wash of the troubled waves of men. It has fit neighbors. Across the street to the north looms the many-towered gray-walled Hospital of St. Luke--cathedral of our ruins, of our sufferings and our dust, near the cathedral of our souls. Across the block to the south is situated a shed-like two-story building with dormer-windows and a crumpled three-sided roof, the studios of the National Academy of Design; and under that low brittle skylight youth toils over the shapes and colors of the visible vanishing paradise of the earth in the shadow of the cathedral which promises an unseen, an