132 A BOOK OF MORTALS 



charm of birds. Here one moment, gone the next. 

 Floating, easy as a cloud, swooping with incredible 

 swiftness, and always, everywhere, ready of speech. 



Of what ? Who knows. One needs to lie in the 

 woods and listen, listen, listen, before we realize how much 

 we owe to the bird and its song. 



