APPENDIX II 



A LEAF FROM THE "PYTCHLEY" 



[By H. C. B.] 



Up at last ! What a summer's day ! 



Soft, and sleepy, and still ! 

 Just a whisper of wind caresses my cheek 



As I breast the top of the hill. 

 Golden and grey the sky above ; 



Meadows — golden and green below. 

 'Twas a different picture met my eye 



Only a short six months ago ! 



For the leafy branches bend and sway, 



And murmur in sweet unrest 

 A vague response to the sun's fierce rays, 



And a promise but half expressed ; 

 Softly the feathery blossoms fall. 



Disturbed by the zephyr's breath, 

 In a quivering shower of summer snow. 



On to the soft green turf beneath. 



How the buried thoughts of a day "gone by" 



Come swiftly hurrying back ! 

 They are here once more ! I can see them all- 



The field and the bustling pack ; 



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