MINSTREL WEATHER 



roots. Here the "wild morning-glory," 

 the tiny field convolvulus, hides perilously 

 in the mowing; white clover and yellow 

 five-finger are spread; the grassflower holds 

 up its single jewel. The swaying stems 

 are trellises to many a wandering vine; 

 there are fairy arbors where a tired elf 

 might sleep guarded from the sun as well 

 as in a jungle. Here, too, the wild straw- 

 berries are ripening, not breathing yet the 

 bouquet of July; but the white wild straw- 

 berry, lover of the shades, has already 

 reached its pallid ripeness. Far beneath 

 the moving surface of the grass ocean lies 

 a dim and mysterious world, lined with 

 track and countertrade of the beetle, 

 caverns of the mole, and the unremaining 

 castle of the ant. Here the sleek wood- 

 chuck passes imperceptibly, the ingenuous 

 cottontail finds his brief paradise; small 

 moths fold their wings and sleep. 



Above are light, motion, and the clearest, 

 strongest colors of the year, untarnished 

 by hot suns, unmixed with the later 

 browns. The dark-eyed yellow daisy, sun 

 worshiper, rises amid the fresh brilliance 

 of that other starry-petaled weed which 

 only sheep will eat. Celestial-blue chicory 



[32] 



