Music of the Wild 



grows for five or six weeks, then spins a cocoon 

 around itself, and lies dormant during the winter, 

 developing another big moth that will flit above 

 the marshes, fields, and towns the coming June, 

 and awake a joy song in the heart of every one 

 who sees it. 



Typical marsh begins with cultivated land run- 

 ning down to a stretch of wild growth that shades 

 off into masses of water grasses, cattails, and bul- 

 rushes. These in turn are edged by true water 

 flowers, hyacinths, blue flags, arrowhead lilies, then 

 the water; and that covered for acres with yellow 

 lilies near the shore, farther out the spreading 

 leaves and masses of white flowers blanketing as 

 much more of the surface, and next clear, deep 

 water in which you can row and fish. 



At first, in crossing the waters of a marsh, the 

 eye is almost blinded and the senses stunned by 

 the glory of the masses of colors, and as you be- 

 come accustomed to fairyland a roll of swelling, 

 throbbing sound fills the ears. 



Then, ho, for the music of the marsh! It be- 

 gins with the frogs. When the first faint breath 

 The of catkin pollen tinges the wind, morning and 

 Chorus of evening vesper is caroled bv a babel of voices and 



the Frogs * 



a paean 01 praise greets every passing shower. 

 The moment the sun shows his face, orange-bellied 

 tree-toads with backs like an unusually brilliant li- 

 chen plaster themselves to limbs from which it is 

 344 



