346 Field, Forest, and Wayside Flowers 
wood thrushes ask each other: a question expressed 
in a rising cadence, which passes into silence before 
we can fully enjoy the exquisite timbre of its in- 
dividual tones. 
And after the question has been many times re- 
peated, there comes at last, from far across the 
sunlit fields, that falling cadence which is the sweet 
and satisfying answer to it. 
Is he prophet as well as poet, this wood-thrush, 
with his work-a-day brown jacket and spotted vest? 
After our many questionings will we get our an- 
swer too,—altogether satisfying and utterly sweet? 
The thrush seems appalled at such grave question- 
ings, and flits off to his friends in the tree-tops who 
have not learned to ‘‘look before and after.’’ And 
as we see the last flicker of his wings we thank 
him not only for his song, but also for its suggested 
parable. 
