WOODLAND PATHS 



song of summer, and irresistibly reminds 

 one of fervid June heat and full-leaved 

 trees. It was a warming, winning chorus, 

 and it brought the sun up over the hori- 

 zon, seemingly with a bound. 



In all this joy of early matins I still 

 miss one bird note that surely ought to 

 be heard by now, and that is the robin's. 

 Robins are here in considerable numbers, 

 but not one of them have I heard sing. 

 I 'm afraid the robin is lazy, but, perhaps, 

 it is just his honest, matter-of-fact nature 

 which does not believe in forcing the sea- 

 son. He will sing loud and long enough 

 by-and-by. 



Such a spring morning is the best sea- 

 son of the year for moth hunting. % The 

 moths are all sound asleep still, tucked 

 away in their cocoons, that are also 

 tucked away in the woodland where it is 

 not so easy to see them in winter. Now 

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