WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



blizzard of 1888) since its progenitors were set free 

 in Greenwood a quarter of a century ago. 



It was an exquisite day. The air quivered with 

 light and sweetness. The suburban lawns were 

 freshly verdant, the shrubs were clothed in a mist 

 of pale green, the gummy buds of maple and hick- 

 ory were bursting, the orchards melted atop into 

 a haze of purple reflected from the newest twigs, 

 the horse - chestnuts were unfolding five fingers 

 from each softly doubled bud-fist, and overhead 

 arched always an unblemished concave of tender- 

 est blue, the sky that in the imaginative East gave 

 us our very word divinity. 



Pausing where broad fields stretched unbroken 

 beyond the roadway and its houses, I stood and 

 listened. A robin called, and blackbirds, unseen 

 in the thicket, revealed their presence musically. 

 Presently my attentive ear caught a tinkle of 

 tiniest bells — an Easter carol rung by elfin fingers 

 — coming and going uncertainly, but, little by little, 

 stronger and more audible, until at last I could 

 locate its silvery tintinnabulation. Still my eager 

 eyes sought in vain for the invisible musician, 

 searched the vibrant depths of the blue until power 

 of vision was almost lost; and then the gurgling 

 melody ceased, and I could rest and think. 



341 



