MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



pest had spent itself, and thought sympathetically 

 of the shattered hopes represented by these frag- 

 ments. But even stormy winds fulfil the Crea- 

 tor's word and nature's balance is kept through 

 tempest as well as calm. 



The noonday lull has already set in. No sound 

 now save the bees' drowsy droning and the soft 

 rustling of wind-swayed leaves. In the wild gar- 

 den daisies and buttercups are nodding to each 

 other, and soft waves and ripples are playing 

 over the tops of the tall grasses. How caressing, 

 how soothing the fragrance-laden breeze as it 

 fans one's brow and lightly touches one's hair, 

 whispering all the time of beautiful, mystical 

 things to which the heart responds though it but 

 dimly understands. 



And now with a vague consciousness of the 

 bliss of living we float peacefully, unquestion- 

 ingly, on with the June-day tide. Whither are 

 we bound ? 



I think for the blessed port of happy summer 

 dreams. 



[220] 



