Songs of the Fields 



Northward bound wild geese dot the river bank 

 with excrement as they pause for a short rest in 

 their migration. The bees rim the water-trough 

 and drink greedily, the guineas clatter, the old 

 Shanghai rooster thrashes all his male progeny 

 into submission, and the turkey cock wears off the 

 tips of his wings with much strutting. The breath 

 of earth, ice-tinged, rises to commingle with the 

 breath of heaven, pollen-laden, and all nature be- 

 comes intoxicated with the combination. Later 

 the sun drives the ice chill from the air, and bloom- 

 time comes, with almost cloying sweetness. 



Of the ground flowers perhaps the sweet wil- 

 liam is most fragrant, the locust of trees, and the 

 wild crab among shrubs, so they attract the musi- 

 cians and are the best choir-lofts. Xot only is the 

 wild crab of such delightful odor that it long has 

 been grown for the perfume of commerce, but 

 it is more beautiful of flower than wild plum, 

 cherry, or any of the haws. Its blossoms are not 

 closely grouped, but hang from long, graceful 

 stems, a few 7 in a cluster. They have more color 

 than any white tree bloom, being a strong red up 

 to the day of opening. The unfolded flowers are 

 a delicate salmon-pink inside, and retain the red 

 on the outside. Their perfume calls wild and do- 

 mesticated bees, bumblebees, wasps, and hornets, 

 sweat bees, and every insect that ever paused at 

 pollen and honey for a treat. 

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