84 MEADOW GRASSES 



flowers, also yellow, the colour of happiness: 

 in old time this plant was supposed to 

 soften the bones of cattle, hence the Latin 

 name, ossifragum. Hidden securely among 

 the rushes, the moor-hen had her nest of 

 dried water-weed, a platform on which at 

 night rested her children, little black balls 

 of fluff with a red beak. A faint chirruping 

 came from the flags, a splash, and silence : 

 the mother had heard my slow approach 

 and called to her young to remain still. 

 Something with a thin, stick-like body, 

 enamelled blue and fanned by a whirling 

 crystal of light, alighted on the open white 

 petals of a crowsfoot the water-buttercup; 

 the dragonfly folded its gauzy wings and con- 

 templated the still deeps from which, a few 

 hours before, it had crept a summer thing 

 that would fulfil its destiny so quickly, and die. 

 Like the civilised bees that leave the security 

 of skep and stored caves of honey to the new 

 race, so all the wild things live but to secure 

 the future of their species. Everything 



