THE REPENTANCE OF MAY 197 



scarcely see an end to the misery that would happen 

 if there should not be some grass soon. And, as 

 though by the stroke of a wand, the grass has come. 

 It is growing round the " golden hooves " of sheep as 

 though it could race their appetite ; it is springing in 

 the fields that are to be mowed, so that shortly they 

 will be as bowls of grass, heaped up and running over 

 the hedges. The corncrake runs about in it like a 

 diver in a deep sea. The starlings that go there for 

 worms and " leather-jackets " dive into it and are lost. 

 Always one of the sweetest employments of the year 

 is to walk through a lush meadow in May. More 

 than ever delightful is it when a timid and distrustful 

 generation has doubted whether there was to be any 

 grass. 



