WILD PASTURES 



about the pasture less visible even than 

 the little mist folk that we might see 

 were our sight fine enough or soft 

 enough. 



Two-thirds of the way across a little 

 puff of wind sparkled its way out from 

 the shore to meet me. It brought with 

 it, full and rich, the fragrance which 

 had led me so long; and as I looked 

 at the broad leaves overhanging my 

 rock port, their under sides and the 

 young shoots covered with a soft, 

 cottony down, I laughed to think that 

 I should not have known what it was 

 I sought. For it was there in plain 

 sight; indeed the rock was canopied 

 with it. 



A long time I sat on that rock on the 

 farther side of the cove, the June sun 

 warming me, the fragrance of the fox- 

 grape blooms over my head alluring, 

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