PROMISE OF MAY 



summer. About a week later, generally 

 on the very sixth of May, easy going 

 mister catbird will appear with great pre- 

 tence of bustle. He is a thicket bird, too, 

 but unlike the chewink and the brown 

 thrush his farming is all folderol. He 

 simply potters round on their trail, glean- 

 ing. Whatever the thicket-bird name is 

 for Ruth, that is his. 



There are sweeter singers in the spring 

 woodland than the brown thrush, but I 

 know of none whose rich voice carries 

 so far, and this one's rang in my ears 

 through all my wanderings till the sun was 

 high and the dew was well dried off the 

 bushes. Now and then I must needs for- 

 get him and even my quest in my joy over 

 the fresh beauties that the shrubs were 

 putting on, seemingly every moment. It is 

 something to look at an olive-brown pas- 

 ture cedar which has been as demure as a 

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