THE CROW'S NEST 
Neither tapestries nor lace can ever hope 
to emulate! And this sunlight, dimmed 
but not gray, half wakes, half sleeps, and 
gives a light as of sunlight turned down 
as some study-lamp, and so gives a mild, 
sweet glow to gladden the eyes. I must 
go now. I put my book in my pocket. 
So, I feel a scholar; and down the ra- 
vine with desultory steps I go. The wind 
begins to walk with me and laughs sadly 
amidst a glow of leaves. The crickets 
are fiddling, though I do not quite know 
the tune; but | am not musical, which 
is no fault of theirs. A rabbit slouches 
through a thicket and eyes me shyly and 
ducks into the briers; and a redbird calls 
with a voice of flame from his ruby 
throat. A cooing dove (just one) moans 
for a minute and is still. The corn- 
fields stand half gray, half-golden-green, 
resting against the coming rain and tem- 
pests. Apple-trees stand with flashes of 
red fruit through their branches and 
leaves, for apple-trees are brave folk to 
retain their leaves till the last minute. 
Only the suckers of oak-trees hola them 
longer with flame uf anger because the 
winter comes. A little child is gather- 
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