The Music of the Marsh 



the rushes are weighted with bobolinks, and the 

 air resounds with their sweet, liquid notes. A few 

 days later the straying killdeer and upland plover 

 return, and the blackbirds and tanagers sweep 

 upon it in countless numbers. From then until 

 fall migration marsh life is at its fullest and 

 best, and if from its babel of voices comes an oc- 

 casional rasping note, to counteract it there is an 

 endless variety of exquisite tones to the heart of 

 the music-lover most dear. 



To any man the call of the marsh is threefold. 

 Whether he realizes it or no, his faith in all re- 

 newal is strengthened in watching this yearly res- The 

 nrrection. Dead as any death appears the marsh Three- 



J fold Lure of 



during winter s long sleep ; no other place so abun- t he Marsh 

 dant with life in summer. Most people dread the 

 thought of annihilation. The marsh, that can die 

 and yet return to life at the first breath of spring, 

 seems each year to repeat anew to its lovers, 

 "Though a man die, yet shall he live again." All 

 men are cheered by that message, whether it comes 

 by precept or impression. 



There is a visual call from the marsh. Men 

 travel across continents and pay high prices to 

 purchase the greatest reproductions of nature that 

 have been painted. The marsh is the most won- 

 derful picture nature herself has to offer. There 

 is no sky to surpass these, for all skies drift over 

 in answer to changing moods. There are no clouds 

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