A WINTER MOOD 229 



but few; let us huddle together. If the 

 snow hides our food, we will go near 

 to man's dwellings, and he will see 

 that we are fed and protected. He 

 may, perhaps, shoot a great owl, or the 

 hawk, and the marsh duck, but he will 

 seldom hurt us, for we are the King's 

 minstrels. So we love man, for with- 

 out him, his houses, gardens, and 

 orchards, to shield us, the hawk and 

 the shrike would prevail over us, and in 

 the forests we never dare to warble as 

 freely as we do in the hedges." 



The narrowing lane is quite birdless, 

 in spite of the red-berried alders and 

 the thistles, that have not all scattered 

 their winged seeds, and the ghostly 

 sprays of the asters. The wild rose 

 stalks glow red, as if new blood was 

 already flowing, and the raspberry 

 canes are pink with a pearly bloom. 

 Through the tangles of underbrush the 



