MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



amethyst throbs. In the full light of the sun all 

 the colors of the rainbow come and go among the 

 jewel-bedecked branches. But when, in the ear- 

 liest of the morning hours, the moon looked down 

 upon this fair scene, it was as if the trees were 

 hung with tiny twinkling stars, while a soft, 

 pearly radiance fell upon our whole earth. 



The gorgeousness of this glitter is almost more 

 than our eyes can endure, but it is the glory of 

 the transient. For see ! from yonder maple-spray 

 the drops are already falling. The jewels are 

 dissolving. The world has begun to weep for the 

 release of Baldur, the Good, the Bright, the 

 Beautiful. All the fierce giants of ice and cold 

 and darkness are once more to be banished, and 

 the gentle summer gods will reign in their stead. 

 We feel this and exult. There is in our hearts 

 the new old joy that comes year after year, year 

 after year, when the genial sun awakens the 

 earth to the promise of a new life. But the joy- 

 ful influences are no less keenly felt by the army 

 of little wild creatures who share with us the 

 happiness of this hour. In that soft, dreamy little 

 song which comes to us from yonder leafless 

 hedge the tree-sparrow tells of the joy that is 

 in store for him and his beloved, in some far-off 

 [118] 



