Where time is come. Now in the woods may be 

 the Forest se en and heard and felt that secret presence 

 Murmurs. w hich in the spring months hid behind songs 

 and blossom, and later clothed itself in dense 

 veils of green and all the magic of June. 

 Something is now evident, that was not 

 evident : somewhat is entered into the forest. 

 The leaves know it : the bracken knows it : 

 the secret is in every copse, in every thicket, 

 is palpable in every glade, is abroad in every 

 shadow -thridden avenue, is common to the 

 spreading bough and the leaning branch. It 

 is not a rumour ; for that might be the wind 

 stealthily lifting his long wings from glade to 

 glade. It is not a whisper ; for that might 

 be the secret passage of unquiet airs, furtive 

 heralds of the unloosening thunder. It is 

 not a sigh ; for that might be the breath of 

 branch and bough, of fern-frond and grass, 

 obvious in the great suspense. It is an 

 ineffable communication. It comes along the 

 ways of silence ; along the ways of sound : its 

 light feet are on sunrays and on shadows. Like 

 dew, one knows not whether it is mysteriously 

 gathered from below or secretly come from 

 on high : simply it is there, above, around, 

 beneath. 



But the hush is dispelled at last. The 

 long lances of the rain come slanting through 



4 



