FLOWERS OF THE SUN 



233 



A field sparrow perched upon a stalk of Mul- 

 lein gave his little song in a slow and listless man- 

 ner that lacked the precision of a month ago. A 

 chippy hidden in the grass followed with his insect - 

 like trill that belongs to Spring dawns, and, heard 

 at noon in July, seems doubly unbirdlike. We both 

 paused a moment as we climbed over the old, tum- 

 bled down, vine -covered wall that was little more 

 than a zigzag stone heap, and looked back at 

 the Lily field. Not a breath of air troubled the 

 grass through which the sweep of the land seemed 

 to move in a legato measure 



"This is the second movement of your Sunlight 

 Sonato, Adagio," I said, when we had reached the 

 orange blaze on 

 the hillside, which 

 proved to be a glo- 

 rious mass of But- 



