THE CUCKOO MEADOW 347 



Meadow; what delightful scenes one remembers 

 having participated in, and what a really interest- 

 ing and jolly place a meadow is. 



This Cuckoo Meadow that I write of is situated 

 in homely Hertfordshire, and not long since a 

 party of seventy happy school boys and girls 

 accompanied me on a ramble there, noting the 

 wild plants and animals, learning their names, 

 the life they lead, and their uses. We had among 

 us a Nature lover of the old school, one who has 

 spent pleasant and profitable hours in Cuckoo 

 Meadow, and he has been kind enough to write 

 down some of his thoughts for publication in this 

 book. Here are my friend's charming verses : — 



THE CUCKOO MEADOW 



I know a meadow where the Cuckoo grows, 

 The sweet musk-scented Cowslip too, 

 The slender Violet, and the blue 



Meek-eyed Forget-me-not and pale Primrose. 



Where Daisies, with pink-tinted halos, peep 

 The rich turf carpet depths among, 

 Where Crickets chirp their matin song 



And Insect-denizens their revels keep. 



Where Quaking Grasses quiver in the air 

 And pale Anemones abound. 

 Where clusters of Bluebells are found. 



With flaming Buttercups and " Milkmaids " fair. 



