OUR KUKAL DIVINITY 117 



And lastly, there is the long, sonorous volley she 

 lets off on the hills or in the yard, or along the 

 highway, and which seems to be expressive of a 

 kind of unrest and vague longing, — the longing of 

 the imprisoned lo for her lost identity. She sends 

 her voice forth so that every god on Mount Olympus 

 can hear her plaint. She makes this sound in the 

 morning, specially in the spring, as she goes forth 

 to graze. 



One of our rural poets, Myron Benton, whose 

 verse often has the flavor of sweet cream, has writ- 

 ten some lines called " Eumination, " in which the 

 cow is the principal figure, and with which I am 

 permitted to adorn my theme. The poet first gives 

 his attention to a little brook that " breaks its shal- 

 low gossip" at his feet and "drowns the oriole's 

 voice : " — 



" But moveth not that wise and ancient cow, 

 Who chews her juicy cud so languid now 

 Beneath her favorite elm, whose drooping hough 

 Lulls all but inward vision fast asleep ; 

 But still, her tireless tail a pendulum sweep 

 Mysterious clock-work guides, and some hid pulley 

 Her drowsy cud, each moment, raises duly. 



" Of this great, wondrous world she has seen more 

 Than you, my little brook, and cropped its store 

 Of succulent grass on many a mead and lawn ; 

 And strayed to distant uplands in the dawn, 

 And she has had some dark experience 

 Of graceless man's ingratitude ; and hence 

 Her ways have not been ways of pleasantness. 

 Nor all her paths of peace. But her distress 

 And grief she has lived past; your giddy round 

 Disturbs her not, for she is learned profound 

 In deep brahminical philosophy. 



