56 Watching the Brant Grow Big. 



lover more. But these loves are uncertain. 

 The boy grows wicked and brings gray 

 hairs and tears of sorrow. The lover is 

 better pleased with another. But nature 

 is steadfast. In the city the slinking street- 

 cur brings forth her mongrel whelps be- 

 neath the wharf, not knowing whence 

 shall come the food to turn to milk, and 

 the pampered pug, bonbon-fed, has not 

 the strength to propagate her kind. But 

 here all life multiplies, and in abundance, 

 and forever. 



The bars of sand that divide currents 

 into currents and that direct the appor- 

 tionment of bay waters, are shining yellow 

 here and there, and the white froth rolls 

 up and blows across them. Hark ! From 

 out the west a merry, flying rabble ap- 

 pears, buffeting the winds, caring naught 

 for the cold. A rabble of warm birds that 

 on even line head down the bay with hurry- 

 ing wings and outstretched necks, chant- 

 ing as they go, and in good company. 

 Hark to the sound of their voices as they 

 pass. Did ever crowd of students seem 

 more hilarious ? Did ever more careless 



