SWAN SONG 193 



fade to browns and grey-browns ; the asphodels 

 glow redly in the marsh, while some moorland trees, 

 such as certain willows, are fairest to see when their 

 foliage has fallen, and the crimson or transparent 

 brown, olive, or golden-yellow of the season's growth 

 appears. Your silver birch is lovely without ceasing ; 

 she knows no other state ; she is perfect in prepara- 

 tion, perfect in completion, in autumnal decline and 

 under winter snows. Her gauze of delicate traceries, 

 rising like a cloud of pale purple in the winter woods ; 

 her bursting green ; her high summer splendours ; 

 her flying gold in Autumn — all are manifestations of 

 unique beauty. Both chestnuts add their glory to 

 the colour song. The Spanish fades to brown ; the 

 other varies much through all shades of yellow. 

 Sycamore foliage is not lovely in its black-spotted 

 death, and the rowan seldom reveals any feast of 

 colour : her glory is her ripe fruit. Ash keys turn 

 brown, and make beautiful contrast with the ivy-clad 

 bole of their parent. They hang after the leaves of 

 the trees have fled. 



One might thus, with patience and scrutiny extend- 

 ing over many autumn seasons, examine the texture 

 of the robe that October weaves ; but here it is rather 

 attempted to display the opulent glory of the whole, 

 and paint the scene that rises from the river's brink, 

 and rolls harmoniously upward through valleys and 

 forests, through the pasture lands, and over the 

 earth, until it breasts the great central loneliness, 

 and, dwarfed to the desert's humble habiliments of 

 o 



