WOODS IN JUNE 



But three short months ago this selfsame wood 

 was almost bare and cold, a fretted maze of boughs 

 and twigs, all grey and brown, but no less beautiful. 

 Growth the coming-of-the-green has transfigured 

 its face, changed it in a way we calmly accept, though 

 in reality the stupendous miracle of visible creation 

 has been wrought before our eyes ; for, truly, three 

 months are but a tick of the clock of Nature. 



But woods for winter days to-day we crave the UPLAND HILLS 



J * AND THEIR FLOWERS 



air, the freedom of open upland downs, the garden 

 of the hills. Beyond where golden broom and the 

 great cymes of the elder flowers sun themselves, 

 'twixt the new green bracken patchwork, there pause 

 and rest; where the fine grass is dry and soft, the 

 home of the little people of the highlands, short 

 in stature, sweet in perfume, brilliant in colour. 



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