44 BIRDS IN TOWN AND VILLAGE 



to admit that with regard to poetry one's prefer- 

 ences change according to the mood one happens 

 to be in and to the conditions generally. At home 

 in murky London on most days I should probably 

 seek pleasure and forgetfulness in Browning; but 

 in such surroundings as I have been describing 

 the lighter-hearted, elf-like Melendez accords best 

 with my spirit, one whose finest songs are without 

 human interest; who is irresponsible as the wind, 

 and as unstained with earthly care as the limpid 

 running water he delights in: who is brother to 

 bird and bee and butterfly, and worships only 

 liberty and sunshine, and is in love with nothing 

 but a flower. 



Nearly midway between the useful little bridge 

 and the rose-blossoming tangle I have spoken of 

 there were three elm-trees growing in the open 

 grassy space near the brook; they were not lofty, 

 but had very wide-spreading horizontal branches, 

 which made them look like oaks. This was an 

 ideal spot in which to spend the sultry hours, and 

 I had no sooner cast myself on the short grass in 

 the shade than I noticed that the end of a pro- 

 jecting branch above my head, and about twenty 

 feet from the ground, was a favourite perch of 



