82 MY DEVON YEAR 



first few days of life beneath. And the ponies thud 

 with unshod feet over the grass and heather, and many 

 bells make music, and the yellow-hammer's long-drawn 

 cry comes sadly from some solitary thorn, whose back 

 is bent by long buffeting of the western wind. 



Blue-robed Alma Venus walks there too, and Spring 

 strews flowers before her. 



