New Walks in Old Ways 



trouble. We do not always succeed 

 in this, however; at least I don't. 

 When tense nerves call for relaxation 

 you may get more help from a quiet 

 hour along the hedge-rows, from an 

 occasional happy bird or butterfly, 

 than you will find in boxes of veronal 

 or in bottles of valerian. Try roadside 

 rambling, some of you jaded jailbirds. 

 You might find it good medicine. 



Speaking of butterflies, they seem 

 fickle folk; possibly dis-bodied flirts, 

 transformed coquettes; just flitting 

 from flower to flower, helping them- 

 selves according to their liking, and 

 passing on to the next field or garden. 

 One of them might float around that 

 way a second time, and remember 

 some particular blossom that had 

 proved specially sweet before, but I 

 doubt it. I saw one settle down so 

 long one afternoon upon a bright red 

 clover bloom that she seemed disposed 

 not to wander further, but she did; 

 and in the natural course of events the 



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