WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



WILD MICE 



HEN every stream in its pent- 

 house 

 Goes gurgling on its way. 

 And in his gallery the mouse 

 Nibbleth the meadow hay; 



Methinks the summer still is 

 nigh. 

 And lurketh underneath, 

 As that same meadow -mouse 

 doth lie 

 Snug in that last year's 

 heath."— ThoREAU. 



Walking about the fields, 

 I come upon tiny pathways as 

 plain as Indian trails, which 

 lead in and out among the grass 

 and weed-stalks, like roads for 

 the tiny chariots of Queen Mab. 

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