Round Robin Hood's Barn 



of springing corn and grain that takes the wind 

 in ripples, and the shadows of the clouds above. 

 And suddenly as I grow fearful of the stillness, 

 there is a song of chuckling merriment and in a 

 parting of the timothy, I see a bobolink's tan pate. 

 I might have known that he would be there, a 

 part of the June lushness, brimming the meadows 

 with his song. From the high cross-yards of the 

 buttonwood, a conkoree sends out his warning. 

 His scarlet epaulettes must be, I think, the badge 

 of some patrol; for never yet have I passed by 

 his watch-tower without arousing his alarm. It 

 is he who always brings to my attention the silver 

 mainmast of his old square-rigger and leaves me 

 wondering how late it will hang out its sails. 

 Beneath, along the wall, the blackberry vines are 

 putting out their long green feelers and the poi- 

 son-ivy wears its simimer gloss. Through their 

 leaves a chipmunk scampers nimbly, turns tail, 

 and disappears. I know, however, from old habit, 

 that curiosity will have the best of him. Ten 

 feet ahead, I shall look into some dim crevice 

 and catch a bright, unwinking eye. Nor does 

 the woodchuck fail me. There he is in midfield 



[i6i] 



