WILD PASTURES 



thrush to be announcing morning every 

 half-hour through the darkness was an 

 absurdity to be accounted for only on 

 the theory that here was a gay young 

 blood who was practising for a moon- 

 light serenade. And when the moon 

 did come, touching the tops of the pines 

 first with a fine edging of gold, drop- 

 ping a luminous benediction to the 

 birches and diffusing it lower and lower 

 till the whole pasture was gold and 

 dusk, the ecstasy of the thrush knew 

 no limit. He poured forth a perfect 

 uproar of liquid melody, punctuated with 

 such hurroos and whoops of 'delight that 

 he made me wonder if his lady love 

 would like such college-song methods of 

 serenading. 



I sat up from my couch on the green 

 moss under the huckleberry bush to 

 listen. The people of the pasture seemed 

 28 



