June and Early July 



or the half-heard song of a wood-thrush, 

 or even the dreamy consciousness of the 

 rhythmical development of life about us 

 — the measured succession of bud, flower, 

 and fruit — seems a sufficient end in itself. 



It is easier to resist this influence if we 

 keep to the road. Once we are led away 

 by some winding pretence of a path, 

 each leafy curve of which is more entic- 

 ing than the last, we are apt to yield 

 ourselves to the simple charm of being. 

 But on the road we are more practical, 

 more self-conscious. We only cease en- 

 tirely to be self-conscious when there is 

 no chance of human interruption. On 

 the road a farm- wagon may overtake us at 

 any moment, and we feel that, to the bovine 

 mind, even the foolish occupation of pick- 

 ing flowers seems more intelligent than the 

 abandonment of one's self to joy in the 

 blue of the sky or the breath of summer. 



Flat rosettes of purple - veined leaves 

 and tall clusters of dandelion-like flower- 



65 



