FULL-BLOWN SUMMER 203 



down singing. He cannot know that there is a 

 cuckoo's egg in his nest, though the corncrake does, 

 to judge by the grating cry of derision that comes for 

 ever from the tall lucerne beyond. The cuckoo, who 

 has put out his young to nurse, has his own way of 

 enjoying this delightful summer weather. But even 

 he must go rushing about declaring that now is the 

 only now, and that there are ten thousand yesterdays. 



