LOVE AND ANGLING. 223 



* 



And when this concert is over we say good- 

 night to each other. I cannot find a fly-book 

 I thought I left in the hall, and I am obliged 

 to ask Kate to come down for a moment and 

 tell me if she knows where it is. 



CAST II. 



LOVE AND ANGLING. 



THE noon is so hot that I that is, we have 

 both to give up fishing. 



The golden dragonfly seems to enjoy the 

 light upon his wings, as he quivers over the 

 pool in which a troop of brown water-beetles 

 are skimming and chasing in dizzy circles. 

 From the burning cone of a poppy head travels 

 a tiny insect, whose wings are as blue as if 

 they were cut from a shred of the sky. The 

 bee cools himself to silence upon a honey- 

 suckle, the grasshopper springs his rattle in 

 the clover. The lark is piping merrily aloft, 

 but the landscape at the siesta hour is lulled 

 into slumber, and its dreams are those shape- 



