THE END OF WINTER 19 



cloud sail over the dark ploughland and green pines; and 

 the gentle sea is white only where the waves break on the 

 sand like a line of children in white frocks advancing 

 with wavers in the game of "Here we come gathering 

 nuts and may." Or the west is angry, thick and grey, 

 the snow is horizontal and fierce, and yet the south has a 

 bay of blue sky and in it a vast sunlit precipice of white 

 cloud, and the missel thrushes roll out their songs again 

 and again at the edges of many woods. Or a sun appears 

 that brings out the songs of thrush and chaffinch and lark, 

 and leaves a chequer of snow on pine and ploughland 

 and on the mole hills of the meadows. Again the sun 

 disappears and the swift heavy hail rebounds on the grass 

 with a dancing as of sand-hoppers, and there is no other 

 sound except a sudden hedgesparrow's song to break in 

 upon the beating of the pellets on hard ivy and holly and 

 tender grass. In the frosty evening the first moth comes 

 to the lamp. 



Now the rain falls rejoicing in its power, and then the 

 sky is sunny and the white clouds are bubble-shaped in 

 the blue, the wet roads are azure with reflected sky, 

 the trees are all of crystal, and the songs of thrushes can 

 be heard even through the snorting and rumbling of a 

 train. 



HAMPSHIRE 



The beeches on the beech-covered hills roar and strain 

 as if they would fly off with the hill, and anon they are 

 as meek as a great horse leaning his head over a gate. 

 If there is a misty day there is one willow in a coombe 



C2 



