XXI 



JULY DAYS 



The woods are dense with full-grown 

 leafage. Of all the trees, only the bass- 

 wood has delayed its blossoming, to 

 crown the height of summer and fill the 

 sun-steeped air with a perfume that calls 

 all the wild bees from hollow tree and 

 scant woodside gleaning to a wealth of 

 honey gathering, and all the hive-dwell- 

 ers from their board-built homes to a 

 finer and sweeter pillage than is offered 

 by the odorous white sea of buckwheat. 

 Half the flowers of wood and fields are 

 out of bloom. Herdsgrass, clover and 

 daisy are falling before the mower. The 

 early grain fields have already caught 

 the color of the sun, and the tasseling 

 corn rustles its broad leaves above the 

 rich loam that the woodcock delights to 

 bore. 



The dwindling streams have lost their 

 boisterous clamor of springtide and wim- 

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