OF RICHARD JEFFERIES 



THE old brown sails and the nets, 

 the anchors and tarry ropes, 

 go straight to nature. You 

 do not care for nature now ? Well ! all 

 I can say is, you will have to go to 

 nature one day— when you die: you 

 will find nature very real then. I rede 

 you to recognise the sunlight and the 

 sea, the flowers and woods now. — 'The 

 Open Air' : Sunny Brighton. 



A WILLOW-WREN still remem- 

 bered his love, and whispered 

 about it to the silent fir tops, as 

 in after days we turn over the pages of 

 letters, withered as leaves, and sigh. 

 So gentle, so low, so tender a song the 

 willow-wren sang that it could scarce 

 be known as the voice of a bird, but was 

 like that of some yet more delicate 

 creature with the heart of a woman. 

 —'The Open Air ' : The Pine Wood. 



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