46 WITH EARTH AND SKY 
of the world. Never for a minute since first I 
guessed in earnest that this world was God’s 
have I been other than knowing that if things 
belonged to God no moment could be free from 
the invasion of wonder. 
So there, in the cleansing night with the com- 
passion of the rain near at hand, I heard a meadow- 
lark give one lilt, one sudden gust of laughter 
in the dark. How my heart lifted to the wonder 
and the beauty of it! All my days of loving the 
meadow lark I had never heard a song from its 
bonny throat after dark. I had heard it toss a 
good-night kiss of song out as the sun was setting 
or lately set. But to hear him sing at night— 
that never. I wonder if it was dreaming. Maybe 
with head under sleepy wing, into its sunlit breast 
came a ripple as of swaying grasses or a rush 
as of summer wind and the sleepy bird thought 
it must be day. But I heard him sing! The 
song was no dream. I was wide awake, what- 
ever the lark was. Just one blowing of its silver 
flute, one dream flung into the sky among the 
stars unaccustomed to its song—that was it and 
that was all. I waited long for one more wistful 
spread of song-wing in the dark but in vain. 
That voice once; and then that voice no more. 
It was dreaming? 
Or perchance it was a bird on its nest packed 
full of feeble little folks who twittered a fear in 
the darkness and the song was meant to allay 
bird-fears, “night-fears,” of birdie folk not yet 
