1 82 THE FRIENDSHIP OF NATURE 



hop, the olive-backed thrush tried to be 

 bold but failed in courage, and a her- 

 mit thrush did not move as I passed. 

 Was he the hermit who enchanted us 

 on May-day, who sang above the smoke 

 of smouldering leaves? 



If we only knew it all, knew all that 

 there is to learn between the coming 

 and going! The journey is so short, 

 and before we are thoroughly used to 

 being here, the time has come for our 

 flitting. If only, like the birds, we 

 may keep in our hearts the songs of 

 another season ! 



The night-hawks, kin of the whip- 

 poor-will, now circle at noon, as in 

 June they did at twilight, and the 

 brown hawk flies toward the sun. Owl 

 notes come nearer at night, for they 

 are leaving the deep woods, and down 

 by the river a stone thrown over the 



