26 PUSSY WILLOW AND CATKINS. 



Down through the dark evergreens slants the mild light : 

 I know every cove, every moist indentation, 



Where mosses and violets ever invite 



To some still inexperienced, fresh exploration. 



The mud-turtle, sunning his shield on a log, 



Slides off with a splash as my paddle approaches ; 



Beside the green island I silence the frog. 



In warm, sunny shallows I startle the roaches. 



I glide under branches where rank above rank 



From the lake grow the trees, bending over its bosom ; 



Or lie in my boat on some flower-starred bank, 



And drink in delight from each bird-song and blos- 

 som. 



Above me the robins are building their nest ; 



The finches are here — singing throats by the dozen ; 

 The cat-bird complaining or mocking the rest ; 



The wing-spotted blackbird, sweet bobolink's cousin. 



With rapture I watch, as I loiter beneath 



The small silken tufts on the boughs of the beeches, 



Each leaf-cluster parting its delicate sheath. 

 As it gropingly, yearningly opens its reaches ; 



