280 Notes and Comments. 



the French Scientist's calculation that, in cultivating the soil, 

 for every single effort put forth by man and beast, Nature 

 gives an effort equal to Five hundred ! he asked once yet 

 again the evergreen question : " What is ' Life '?.... The 

 answer comes, as all Nature's teaching comes, not in the definite 

 and clear statements (so beloved of scientific humanity), not 

 in a mathematic formula, or a clear and logical phrase ; but 

 slowly, vaguely and indefinitely, as the bursting seed or the 

 opening flower, Nature tells us of life in endless forms, and the 

 sun shows us an endless object-lesson of what life is. The 

 West wind tells that life and immortality are one, that life 

 is freedom, great, abounding, majestic and wonderful as the 

 vast ocean and the immeasurable sky. The winds and the 

 hills show that death is but a change of existence, that life is 

 the essence of all creation." . . etc. Verb. sap. 



THE GREEN WOODPECKER.* 



O Yaffle ! flinging sorrow to the wind, 

 Born forester, half outlaw, green o' garb 

 Like Sherwood's Robin, garnet crest a-barb ; 



Your ' char ' chant makes a Message to' my mind. 



Each tap's a spell since wood-deaf ears it glads, 

 As ' screeve ' or bore you, by instinctive rule, 

 Beech balk, the pine's mast, beam-tree rod : the tool 



Your bill ! — in one a ' nauger,' mallet, adze. 



Yet, half a parrot, clench you yon' high bole — 



The woodman's cheery mockster. Mark ! how fast, 

 After each dull deep axe-thuck to the bast, 



We hear you, Up there ! chorussing his role. 



Why do we rank you higher than most that sing — 

 If but the rare, true Woodlark be except — 

 When at one craft and only, you're adept ? 



Is't that you corral Sorceries 'neath your wing ? 



O ! Yaffle, Yaffle, on a Yoreland bough — 



Which more of late you've favoured — tell me this : 

 Why, for all nature-lovers, like a kiss 



Inviting more, are you ? that Troth may trow. 



' Associations ' count in every sphere — - 



' Birds of a feather flock,' the saw-rhyme says : 

 Then may your tactic 'liven all our days — 

 Swink at the woodfall's lighter with you near ! 

 S.M. F.A.L. 



* 'Communicated' by the late S. M., Forester; versed by F. Arnold 

 Lees. 



Naturalist 



