NATURE NEAR LONDON 



that side titlarks mount above the highest bough 

 and then descend, sing, sing, singing, to the grass. 



A jay calls in a circular copse in the midst of 

 the meadow ; solitary rooks go over to their nests 

 in the elms on the hill ; cuckoos call, now this 

 way and now that, as they travel round. While 

 leaning on the grey and lichen-hung rails by the 

 brook, the current glides by, and it is the motion 

 of the water and its low murmur which renders 

 the place so idle ; the sunbeams brood, the air is 

 still but full of song. Let us, too, stay and watch 

 the petals fall one by one from a wild apple and 

 float down on the stream. 



But now in autumn the haws are red on the 

 thorn, the swallows are few as they were in the 

 earliest spring ; the sedge-birds have flown, and 

 the redwings will soon be here. The sharp points 

 of the sword-flags are turned, their edges rusty, 

 the forget-me-nots are gone. October's winds are 

 too searching for us to linger beside the brook, 

 but still it is pleasant to pass by and remember the 

 summer days. For the year is never gone by ; in 

 a moment we can recall the sunshine we enjoyed 

 in May, the roses we gathered in June, the first 

 wheatear we plucked as the green corn filled, 

 Other events go by and are forgotten, and even 

 the details of our own lives, so immensely impor- 

 tant to us at the moment, in time fade from the 

 82 



