The Sleeping of the Fields 365 



is their superficial suggestion, is merged and lost in 

 the far more deeply pervading thoughts of rest and 

 resurrection. The brown meadows, in which the 

 work of the reapers is done, have borne and nour- 

 ished the crops of the year, the food of millions. 

 Their summer's task completed, they lie at rest, 

 gathering from air and sun, from autumn rain and 

 winter snow, the constituents which will help to 

 feed the crops of another year. The lilies, which 

 neither toil nor spin, have yet made just and due 

 provision for another summer's need. In bulbs, 

 protected from frost and damp by a coat of papery, 

 scales, the young foliage, and in some cases even 

 the flowers of an other season, sleep, and packed in 

 with them is a store of gums and starches gathered 

 for the needs of next spring by this summer's 

 leaves and roots. 



The orchard-trees have been putting their vi- 

 tallity first into a wealth of bloom, and then into 

 the fruit " pleasant to the eyes and good for 

 food." Now their duties are done, and as a tired 

 worker removes the clothing of the day before 

 lying down to rest, they strip themselves of the 

 green robes which they have worn all summer. 

 The forest-trees by September have formed and 

 ripened their seed. And all have laid away be- 



