XXIV 



SKYLARK 



AM standing in a beautiful and romantic spot 

 amongst the hills. Below me, the river is bubbling 

 its musical course over the rocks and rounded 

 stones. Lambs on the green mountain sides are 

 bleating to their mothers ; and this and the music 

 from the water and the songs of countless birds fill the air with 

 that sweet, soft sound Nature's evensong. Close to me, and 

 almost hidden in a group of yews, there is a little church, and 

 the closing hymn of this Sunday evening service reaches me and 

 mingles with the voices of the hills, and I distinguish those 

 familiar words 



'Abide with me! fast falls the eventide.' 



On a post, not far from me, there sits a Lark, his body lit 

 up with the rays of the sinking sun, and while those inside 

 the building sing their closing song of praise, the little brown 

 bird outside also joins in this evensong. What a picture of 

 perfect peace this is ! Great silent shadows creep slowly up 

 the hills, changing their whole colour from a brilliant spring-like 

 beauty to a dull, sombre brown. Below, there stretches a vast 

 fertile valley, and above a picture of wild, rough grandeur, and 

 now and again the Cuckoo's clarion rings out loud and clear 

 the note which links the valleys with the hills. Rocky dingles 



104 



