AND WILD FLOWERS 73 



before the cradle is ready for the dozen 

 minute eggs that will nestle in its soft cup! 

 The little chap and his adoring wife were 

 not alarmed at my presence: I stood within 

 two yards of their nest, but they flew into 

 the hedge and out again without fear or 

 distress. 



A wild bee hummed among the nettles, 

 content and self-sufficient; a crow slanted 

 overhead, veering as he saw me, for crows 

 and gamekeepers hate each other equally; 

 a dead leaf fluttered into the water and was 

 carried in a foam-capped whirlpool under 

 the roots of the hawthorn. Three willow- 

 wrens came to the tree, and sought the 

 insects that walked over the broad platform 

 of the leaves ; one flew to the surface of 

 the brook and seized a horse-fly struggling 

 in the water. The stream sang and sang, 

 carrying the leaf that had left the tree 

 for ever; the sunlight flashed a burnished 

 ripple, was gone again, and the bees brushed 

 against the nettles, wondering if they should 



