MAY DAYS 



and harrow are greening with springing 

 grain. 



We listen to the cuckoo's monotonous 

 flute among the white drifts of orchard 

 bloom and the incessant murmur of bees, 

 the oriole's half plaintive carol as of de- 

 parted joys in the elms, and the jubilant 

 song of the bobolink in the meadows, 

 where he is not an outlaw but a welcome 

 guest, mingling his glad notes with the 

 merry voices of flower-gathering children, 

 as by and by he will with the ringing ca- 

 dence of the scythe and the vibrant chirr 

 of the mower. Down by the flooded 

 marshes the scarlet of the water maples 

 and the flash of the starling's wing are 

 repeated in the broad mirror of the still 

 water. The turtle basks on the long in- 

 cline of stranded logs. 



Tally-sticks cast adrift are a symbol 

 that the trapper's warfare against the 

 muskrats is ended and that the decimated 

 remnant of the tribe is left in peace to 

 reestablish itself. The spendthrift waste 

 of untimely shooting is stayed. Wild 

 duck, plover, and snipe have entered 

 upon the enjoyment of a summer truce 

 that will be unbroken, if the collector is 

 54 



