A BIRD OF THE DARK 



THE world is never more tlian half aslee}:). 

 Night dawns and there is almost as wide a 

 waking as with the dawn of day. We live in 

 the glare till it leaA-es us l)lind to the forms that 

 move through the dark ; we listen to the roar 

 of the day till we can no longer hear the stir 

 that begins with the night. But here in the 

 darkness is life and movement, — wing-beats, foot- 

 falls, cries, and calls, — all the wakefulness, strug- 

 gle, and tragedy of the daj^ 



Whatever the dusk touches it quickens. 

 Things of bare existence by day have life at 

 night. The very rocks that are dead and inani- 

 mate in the light get breath and being in the 

 dark. What was mere substance now becomes 

 [67] 



