THE BEECH WOODS 



With the returning light as yet 

 scarcely lifting the veil of darkness in 

 the woods, the notes of hope and cheer 

 became more frequent. For the feath- 

 ered dwellers of these woods the night 

 has its uncertainties, its sudden trage- 

 dies of storm or lurking death from 

 winged or furred enemies. From thicket 

 and from elevated perch more rejoicing 

 songs broke upon the listening hours. 

 This was the beginning of a new day 

 and all things were refreshed and glad 

 to be alive. In the growing light the 

 gloom was dispelled and spirits rose, 

 with all the various demands for action. 



In the hollows of the creek a white 

 mist hung, and dimly through it, like 

 gray ghosts, tree trunks showed their 

 many forms. Not a breath was stir- 

 ring, and perfumes without number lay 

 cradled in the air in unseen strata of 

 variable depth. Here by a stump, where 

 the sweet white violets grew, the air was 

 heavy with their delicate perfume. The 

 strong woody odour of the ferns floated 

 in the hollows where they filled the 

 spaces with luxuriant green. By the 

 lane and on the strawberry-covered 

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