THE WYCH ELM 



HE Elm stands guardian of the hedgerow, and its sturdy 

 arms reach out over the bordering furrows. The year 

 has newly begun ; the weak sunlight of a winter's day 

 falls on the clods of earth, thrown over and smoothed 

 by the ploughshare ; the pools of water which lie in the furrows 

 hold grey earth-shadows cast by their sloping sides. From a bed of 

 dry leaves, which now and again rise with a swirl and chase one 

 another in circles, harried by the North-east wind, a few snow- 

 drops arc peering out. The purple grey of the elm-twigs makes a 

 harmony with the sky. 



