136 By Leafy Ways. 



of autumn, hang graceful wreaths round the ruined 

 windows. The roofless halls are hung with green 

 waves of ivy that cling about the broken arches and 

 twine lovingly round the shattered columns. A fringe 

 of fern-leaves hangs from every crevice. Wallflowers 

 bloom upon the graceful capitals. 



Vandal hands have been laid upon the noble fabric. 

 Its sculptured stones are built into half the houses of 

 the little township. The very roads are paved with 

 its costly fragments. 



It is the island valley of Avilion. Still 



' it lies 



Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns 

 And bowery hollows.' 



But the summer sea is now only a gleam of silver on 

 the far horizon. 



And in the spring-time, when the great acacias, that 

 lean as if to caress the ruins with their gentle touch, 

 just show signs of budding green ; when the swaying 

 boughs of the beech that screens the roofless chapel 

 are bright with opening leaves, the jackdaws come 

 back from their winter wanderings and build their 

 nests here, in the niches of the ruined tower ; there, in 

 cosy nooks among the ivy. Now they settle down for 

 the season on the broken stairway that hangs midway 

 up the wall. 



Over all there cling the memories of the vanished 

 years. The voice of Dunstan echoed in this empty 

 hall. Beneath that turf the bones of Arthur crumbled 



