Followers of Saint Francis 



that, you may go only under guidance. Else is 

 it certain that you wiU stroll blundering in on 

 shy domestic rites. And lest your carelessness 

 turn to intentioned prying, my mother leads your 

 steps with apparent reasons that are her subtle 

 feints. "Would you like to have some roses?" 

 she implores you, as you stand precariously near 

 the pear tree. "There are more buds for cutting 

 in the border just beyond." And how are you 

 to guess that all the bounty she snips oflF for you, 

 is her glad exchange for your dull blindness to 

 the yellow warblers who were flitting just above 

 you and to a little horse hair cup built snug in 

 a low crotch? Never would you be sharp enough 

 to take your yieldings from the seed-bed as a 

 service to the catbird. Yet how else save by such 

 proffer were you to be induced from the syringa 

 where a clean and brisk-eyed fellow was waiting 

 to take the froth of blossoms in a dive. Only 

 my mother will grow frank in desperation if you 

 disturb the wood-thrush, a shy visitant who in 

 rare times of drouth will deign to use our pool. 

 It is not for you to catch a ghmpse of her white 

 breast in an upthrown shower of spray no more 

 [269] 



