MEADOW THOUGHTS. C7 



muscles, these were not sounds, they were the silence 

 itself. So sensitive to it as I was, in its turn it held 

 me firmly, like the fabled spells of old time. The 

 mere touch of a leaf was a talisman to bring me under 

 the enchantment, so that I seemed to feel and know 

 all that was proceeding among the grass-blades and in 

 the bushes. Among the lime trees along the wall the 

 birds never built, though so close and sheltered. 

 They built everywhere but there. To the broad 

 coping-stones of the wall under the lime boughs 

 speckled thrushes came almost hourly, sometimes to 

 peer out and reconnoitre if it was safe to visit the 

 garden, sometimes to see if a snail had climbed up 

 the ivy. Then they dropped quietly down into the 

 long strawberry patch immediately under. The cover 

 of strawberries is the constant resource of all creeping 

 things ; the thrushes looked round every plant and 

 under every leaf and runner. One toad always re- 

 sided there, often two, and as you gathered a ripe 

 strawberry you might catch sight of his black eye 

 watching you take the fruit he had saved for you. 



Down the road skims an eave-swallow, swifb as an 

 arrow, his white back making the sun-dried dust dull 

 and dingy ; he is seeking a pool for mortar, and will 

 waver to and fro by the brook below till he finds 

 a convenient place to alight. Thence back to tho 

 eave here, where for forty years he and his ancestors 

 built in safety. Two white butterflies fluttering round 

 each other rise over the limes, once more up over the 

 house, and soar on till their white shows no longer 

 against the illumined air. A grasshopper calls on the 

 swarJ by the strawberries, and immediately fillips 



