WILDWOOD WAYS 



That is the way Tennyson saw it, and 

 the counterpart of the gulf, out of which 

 looked the round-eyed mere, lay at my 

 feet. Long years ago some first settler, 

 lacking certainly Tennyson's outlook, stu- 

 pidly cognizant only of the worst that 

 his prodding pole could stir up, named 

 the wee gem of a lake " Muddy Pond." 

 Here surely was another man with eyes 

 and no eyes. Round the margin's lip, 

 summer and winter, rolls the bronze 

 green sphagnum, its delicate tips simu- 

 lating shaggy forest growth of hoary pine 

 and fir. Nestling in its gray-gold heart 

 are the delicate pink wonder-orchids of 

 late May, the callopogon and arethusa. 

 Here the pitcher plant holds its purple- 

 veined cups to the summer rain and traps 

 the insects that slide down its velvety lip 

 and may not climb again against this same 

 velvet, become suddenly a spiny chevaux- 

 200 



