DANVIS FARM LIFE 71 



it does not bear bunches of violets and dandelions, 

 while the mothers rob the cherished house plants 

 of their bloom and girls bring all the flowers of the 

 wood. 



Far more touching than the long processions 

 that with music and flags and floral chariot wind 

 through the great cemeteries of our cities, are the 

 simple rites of the small scattered groups of coun- 

 try folks who come to deck with humble flowers 

 the resting-place of the soldier who was neighbor 

 or brother or comrade. While the garlands yet are 

 fresh and fragrant on the graves, Spring blossoms 

 into the perfect days of June. 



He who now braves the onslaughts of the 

 bloodthirsty mosquito, in the leafy fastnesses of 

 the June woods, will see, not so many birds as he 

 may expect to, judging from the throngs in fields 

 and orchards, but many of those he does see will 

 be unknown to him if he has not the lore of the 

 ornithologist and a sharp eye and ear to boot. 

 However, he will meet old acquaintances, his little 

 friends the chickadees and the nuthatches, the 

 commoner woodpeckers and the yellow-bellied, 

 perhaps. The jays will scold him and the crows 

 make a pother overhead if he chances in the 

 neighborhood of their nests, and, likely enough, 

 he will see fluttering and skulking before him a 

 brown something — is it beast or bird? — and 

 some nimble balls of brown and yellow down dis- 



