62 l(AfMBLES OF A VOMINIS 



Nor from this sylvan sanctuary has the rattle of the 

 railway or the smoke of the great city scared away the 

 timid children of the wild. The kingfisher still haunts 

 the brook that loiters round the roots of these old trees, 

 and water-rats come out in the gloaming along those 

 green banks by the stream. It is a gracious spot, amid 

 whose quiet beauty " the tired brickmakers of this clay 

 earth might steal a little frolic ; " whose charm will 



linger 



" Even in the city's throng," 



that they may in fancy still 



" feel the freshness of the streams 



That, crossed by shades and sunny gleams, 

 Water the green land of dreams, 

 The holy land of song." 



