AND WILD FLOWERS 75 



factory and office, breathing the air fouled 

 by exhaust of petrol engine and chimney, 

 while the brook rippled 'so sweetly, and the 

 living air formed a passionate stream with 

 the energy of the sunbeams. 



Dreaming by the brook, I thought of 

 other woods nearer London, which are so 

 dear because of old association with the 

 friend of my boyhood. There still the 

 nightingale returns, the jay lurks, and 

 the mysterious nightjar wheels when the 

 chafer-beetles flit against the oak leaves 

 at twilight. And yet, less than half a mile 

 away, is a busy tram terminus. The 

 wild things in freedom love their haunts 

 and are not easily driven away, but in 

 the higher wood beautiful in spring with 

 apple blossom, uncurling brakefern, silver 

 birch and sheen of bluebell no birds sang 

 as alone I walked among its violated sancti- 

 ties. It was the hour of solitude, when the 

 sun almost was quenched and the moon had 

 not yet come above the dim hills. The 



