By -Ways and Butterflies 



the world four-square, and fear no 

 evil and, what is more, I am not 

 conscious of evil in my heart or mind. 

 I touch creation at every point. There 

 is no jar, no friction. The connection 

 is too intimate; too closely established. 

 Do you hear that woodpecker calling 

 to the faithful from his tower in yonder 

 mosque? He has his red fez on his 

 head. I don't know whether real, 

 sure-enough muezzins wear them or 

 not. Turks are supposed to; so that 

 is near enough for purposes of com- 

 parison. But I for one had rather 

 stand here amidst all this greenery, 

 with the grass and wild flowers glist- 

 ening in the morning dew, and hear 

 that red-head sending out his piercing 

 note from the top of that dead oak 

 tree top than to be this minute on the 

 dirty pavements in front of St. Sofia. 

 No streets of Stamboul for mine when 

 I can set my feet in this soft turf, and 

 breathe such air. And as for cathe- 

 drals ! Come with me. 



[69] 



