ALONG A COUNTRY ROAD 



about in the treetops, and the cruel shrike or 

 " butcher-bird " haunts hedges by the side of 

 the road. 



And when the shadows droop to the hills 

 and the light fades from the waters; when 

 the singing of twilight comes in faint-drawn 

 chords of softest minors, then the old road 

 takes on a dusky gray that fades to brown, 

 and in near-by woods the line of brown deep- 

 ens. All sounds of river-music have lapsed 

 to silence, and the harvest-moon bends like 

 a bow in western skies. By way-side ponds 

 the frogs have already begun to sound their 

 castanets, and home-bound birds have gone 

 past swiftly and silently to the harboring nests 

 which awaited them. The hush of night 

 draws near. There is only one touch more 

 to close the chapter; one sound to lull the 

 sleepy birds and fill the woodland spaces with 

 drowsy melody. And presently, as the first 

 note of a whippoorwill comes from the more 

 remote thickets, there follows a medley of 

 jangled brass, a clangorous and broken chorus 

 of bells. And in the shadows, followed by a 

 shadow, the cows come through the reaches 

 of odorous dust, and by the bars as you pass 



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