The Lay of the Band 
the birds. It was coming toward me over the wide 
reach of the swamp. 
Its coming seemed perfectly natural, as the sight 
of the swamp seemed entirely familiar, though I had 
never looked upon it from this point before. Silent, 
inscrutable, and alien it lay, untouched by human 
hands except for this narrow braid of railroad bind- 
ing its outer edges. Over it hung a quiet and reserve 
as real as twilight. Like a mask it was worn, and was 
slipped on, I know, at my approach. I could feel the 
silent spirit of the place drawing back away from 
me, though not to leave me quite alone, I should 
have at least a guide to lead me through the shadow 
land, for out of the lower living green towered a 
line of limbless stubs, their bleached bones gleaming 
white, or showing dark and gaunt against the hori- 
zon and marking for me a path far out across the 
swamp. Besides, here came the buzzard winding 
slowly down the clouds. Soon its spiral changed to 
a long pendulum swing, till just above the skeleton 
trees it wheeled, and bracing itself with its flapping 
wings, dropped heavily upon one of their headless 
trunks, 
It had come leisurely, yet with a definiteness that 
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