HOW I BECAME A NATURALIST 15 



A love of Nature breeds poetry within one's soul, for -the whole 

 arena of outdoor life is one great poem of comedy and tragedy, 

 humour and pathos, sunshine and storm. The difficulty is that, 

 although we all feel this magic touch of poetry in our contact 

 with Nature, we cannot adequately express it. It is something 

 that can be inwardly digested, but not outwardly demonstrated. 

 Once I listened to an ascending Lark, and the thoughts that 

 occurred to me then I wrote down thus : 



Hark ! to the joyous Lark ! 



On buoyant wing, 

 Voicing his raptured lays 



Pagans of Spring. 



Pearl of the feathered race ; 



Prince of the air ; 

 Full-throated Alauda ; 



Songster so fair. 



Cleaving the ether blue, 



I hear thee sing 

 Love-songs of welcome 



For Earth's blossoming. 



Bird of the meadowland ; 



Speck of the sky ; 

 Earth's gay ambassador, 



Soaring on high. 



Snow, wind, and rain may come, 



Naught dost thou care ; 

 Still soar and sing aloud, 



Prince of the air. 



Spirit of blithesomeness, 



Happy and gay ! 

 Love-flights of gladsomeness, 



Day after day. 



Why dost thou scorn the ground 

 Why mount the cloud ? 



Sending back lullabies, 

 Rich, long, and loud. 



