76 THE FRIENDSHIP OF NATURE 



out their individual impress of joy or 

 gloom, strength or variability, each 

 according to his character. No one 

 would tie chaplets of willow for a 

 conqueror, or weave garlands of oak 

 leaves for a bride. Stones washed 

 from the banks by the winter storms 

 are frescoed by lichens, and between 

 them are tufts of ebony spleenwort; 

 swinging by drooping branches, we 

 reach the summit, and resting on the 

 deep, soft moss, look on, through the 

 sun-flecked tree boles, to a trackless 

 wilderness of wood and leafage, un- 

 scarred as yet by the axe, unspoiled by 

 man's touch. A giant chestnut crowns 

 the place, with a four-branched trunk, 

 as if some well-filled burr had seeded 

 where it fell; while underneath it is 

 one unbroken stretch of moss. 



Summer is singing its noon song, 

 and we listen, leaning against the tree. 



