VAN CLEVE NA T URE-ST UDY AND THE RE A DING LESSON 267 



Of course books are not so dead now as they were in the days of 

 Comenius. Yet they are indeed very dead if the reading of them 

 does not lead us to understand and enjoy our fellow men and 

 nature. Any effort the teacher will make to better interpret 

 nature-reading and nature-literature by means of natur- 

 study, and to stimulate nature-study by means of the inspiration 

 of nature-literature, will open for the child (and he can hardly do 

 it for himself) two of the gates to Henry Turner Bailey's Holy City 

 of the Spirit; namely, the gate of nature and the gate of literature. 



Nalwe Bids You Come 



Donald Thistle 



High is the sun in the Heavens, 



The meadows are piuple and gold; 

 Dotted with misty whiteness 



For yarrow grows there as of old. 

 Proud spikes of the wild verbena 



Of royal hue indeed, 

 Rivalling the indigo bunting 



Are tossed by the winds and are freed. 



Then come where the milkweeds' pink clusters 

 An old fashioned perfimie doth give, 



Where the mullein on high stalks is blooming, 

 And joy is complete, but to Hve. 



Liquid the notes from the pasture 



A meadowlark greeting the day; 

 Bobolinks mount with their warble. 



While oft sounds the screech of the jay. 

 You enter the woods by a by-path. 



As quiet indeed as a thief. 

 But policeman jay's sure to find you. 



And study of birds comes to grief. 



But come where the bluebird doth carol, 



Where the bell notes of wood thrush are heard 



Where the tanager flashes his crimson, 

 And the brightest of jewels a bird. 



