The Black Swans 



I suppose it may have been Frederick 

 Law Olmstead. He had a lot to do, I 

 believe, with the landscapes now so 

 dear to all who know the former site 

 of the World's Fair of 1893. But 

 whoever did it builded his own great 

 monument, and generations yet un- 

 born will seek the solace of its isola- 

 tion. No road-way crosses to it. 

 Arched bridges lead you from the busy 

 drives across lagoons in which big 

 forest trees have plunged their roots. 

 The motors and the trolleys are not 

 there. The birds know it well enough. 

 Trust them for that, and squirrels 

 once scampered everywhere until long 

 protection so increased their number 

 that it was found too many nests were 

 being robbed, and they were banished. 

 At least so I've been told. 



One day last March when the sun 

 had whispered something to the trees 

 that made the willows and the dog- 

 woods start, I strolled across this 

 Wooded Isle. The grass was showing 

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