i;o DAYS OF AUTUMN 



were they among themselves that I was 

 permitted to approach within a yard of 

 them. I could see their frail claws, and 

 admire the slim outline of their bodies; 

 a melancholy admiration, like that of age 

 with a young heart for youth and beauty 

 that it yearns to share ; the swallows 

 were much to me, but I was nothing to 

 them. Suddenly with a rush of wings 

 they swept up, soon to become a smudge 

 against the sky. But the wind was not 

 favourable, or the message anticipated had 

 not arrived, for they returned to the sedges 

 that never ceased to shiver of coming 

 dreariness. The autumnal air was tranquil 

 in its silence and solitude; the wings of 

 gnats dancing their mazy columns assumed 

 in the sunshine a fairy semblance. Over 

 the waters sped the swallows, taking the 

 last banquet, for once the long journey 

 were commenced no halt would be made 

 for food ; the thousands of miles over sea 

 and land must be passed without falter, 



