WHEN THE FOREST CLOSES IN 



JUNE has shut up all the avenues 

 of far away prospect. The eye can- 

 not pierce the foliage of one tree, 

 to say nothing of the hundreds that 

 have crowded together as a green 

 barrier. There are times, windy 

 days in early spring or still days 

 in late autumn, when the heart 

 craves the long vision ; and one climbs 

 the hill and gazes across the dimly 

 greening landscape over which the 

 shadows of the March clouds fly in 

 startled fear; or one walks through 

 the woods stripped of their leaves, 

 and between the bare branches looks 

 down the slope into the purple haze 



[108] 



