60 Idylls of the Field. 



useful trouble of the rain, she left the lanes and 

 copses all aglow with flowers. 



Broader grow each day the fans of the horse-chestnut, 

 sweeter the fragrance of the black poplar, brighter the 

 glow of blossoming almond-trees. 



Deeper are the clouds of green that among the 

 dark pines on the hill are gathering round the larch 

 tops. 



Higher still under the hedgerows grows the wilder- 

 ness of flowers and ferns and leaves. 



Louder rises the clamour of the rookery as the 

 querulous cries of the nestlings grow stronger in their 

 wind-rocked cradles. 



More glorious yet is the music of the thrush ; and 

 at the hour of twilight welcome still as ever comes 

 the blackbird's song. 



Now, too, the redstart and the wryneck, the black- 

 cap and the nightingale, and many another truant who 

 left us when the leaves began to fall, come back across 

 the sea, and take their part in the great chorus. 



And if at times the air blows keen on the world 

 without, this sheltered hollow is ever full of the warm 

 south ; here we seem even on the threshold of the 

 summer. 



Over the soft earth turned up by mouse and mole 

 and worm, until the foot sinks deep at every step, is 

 spread a very carpet of celandine leaves, strewn with 

 wide yellow blooms like studs of gold. The white 

 stars of wood anemones are scattered like snow on all 



