THE CROWS NEST 



neither tapestries nor lace can ever hope 

 to emulate ! And this sunlight, dimmed 

 but not gray, half wakes, half sleeps, and 

 gives a light as of sunlight turned down 

 as some study-lamp, and so gives a mild, 

 sweet glow to gladden the eyes. I must 

 go now. I put my book in my pocket. 

 So, I feel a scholar; and down the ra- 

 vine with desultory steps I go. The wind 

 begins to walk with me and laughs sadly 

 amidst a glow of leaves. The crickets 

 are fiddling, though I do not quite know 

 the tune; but I am not musical, which 

 is no fault of theirs. A rabbit slouches 

 through a thicket and eyes me shyly and 

 ducks into the briers; and a redbird calls 

 with a voice of flame from his ruby 

 throat. A cooing dove (just one) moans 

 for a minute and is still. The corn- 

 fields stand half gray, half-golden-green, 

 resting against the coming rain and tem- 

 pests. Apple-trees stand with flashes of 

 red fruit through their branches and 

 leaves, for apple-trees are brave folk to 

 retain their leaves till the last minute. 

 Only the suckers of oak-trees hold them 

 longer with flame of anger because the 

 winter comes. A little child is gather- 

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