for forest sweets, near and low for spoil of 

 the pastures. There dandelions uplift ten 

 thousand small gold suns ; white clover, 

 nun o' the sward, strings pearls along its 

 green. Not yet is it at blossomy flood-tide. 

 That comes later when the nun's big, lag- 

 gard purple sister is bursting sparsely into 

 flower. Then, indeed, is the short green 

 turf mottled with white and gold. What 

 sight outrivals a stretch of dewy sward, with 

 sunshine flashing rainbows from its dia- 

 monds, drawing sweets from its thick pow- 

 dering of bloom ? May, merry month, shall 

 spread such along all the sunny road-sides, 

 and send to them hovering bees in winged 

 clouds. 



There the bee sucks sucks from dawn to 

 fall of dew unless, indeed, the raspberry 

 thicket lures to its breast. The honey- 

 bearers are wise after their kind. They 

 know one clover-head, one dandelion, may 

 drop, another springs in its stead, through 

 weeks of sunshiny weather. And raspberry 

 blossom endures for but a little space be- 

 side yielding a honey for which Titania, 

 queen of fairies, might sigh. What wonder 

 how they choose in this embarrassment of 

 riches? The thicket is vocal with their 

 droning pipe. Some wing to it straight- 



