THE PAGEANT OF SUMMER 



though the printing press has set a foot on 

 every threshold, numbers bow the knee 

 when they hear the roar the timid dove 

 does not heed. So trustful are the doves, 

 the squirrels, the birds of the branches, 

 and the creatures of the field. Under 

 their tuition let us rid ourselves of mental 

 terrors, and face death itself as calmly as 

 they do the livid lightning; so trustful 

 and so content with their fate, resting in 

 themselves and unappalled. If but by 

 reason and will I could reach the godlike 

 calm and courage of what we so thought- 

 lessly call the timid turtle-dove, I should 

 lead a nearly perfect life. 



The bark of the ancient apple-tree under 

 which I have been standing is shrunken 

 like iron which has been heated and let 

 cool round the rim of a wheel. For a hun- 

 dred years the horses have rubbed against 

 it while feeding in the aftermath. The 

 scales of the bark are gone or smoothed 

 down and level, so that insects have no 

 hiding-place. There are no crevices for 



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