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the small knots； like bark rolled up in a dot； will be acorns。
Purple vetches along the mounds； yellow lotus where the grass is
shorter； and orchis succeeds to orchis。 As I write them； so these
things come … not set in gradation； but like the broadcast flowers
in the mowing…grass。
Now follows the gorse； and the pink rest…harrow； and the sweet
lady's bedstraw； set as it were in the midst of a little thorn…
bush。 The broad repetition of the yellow clover is not to be
written； acre upon acre； and not one spot of green； as if all the
green had been planed away； leaving only the flowers to which the
bees come by the thousand from far and near。 But one white campion
stands in the midst of the lake of yellow。 The field is scented as
though a hundred hives of honey had been emptied on it。 Along the
mound by it the bluebells are seeding； the hedge has been cut and
the ground is strewn with twigs。 Among those seeding blue…bells
and dry twigs and mosses I think a titlark has his nest； as he
stays all day there and in the oak over。 The pale clear yellow of
charlock； sharp and clear； promises the finches bushels of seed for
their young。 Under the scarlet of the poppies the larks run； and
then for change of colour soar into the blue。 Creamy honeysuckle
on the hedge around the cornfield； buds of wild rose everywhere；
but no sweet petal yet。 Yonder； where the wheat can climb no
higher up the slope； are the purple heath…bells； thyme and flitting
stone…chats。
The lone barn shut off by acres of barley is noisy with sparrows。
It is their city； and there is a nest in every crevice； almost
under every tile。 Sometimes the partridges run between the ricks；
and when the bats come out of the roof； leverets play in the
waggon…track。 At even a fern…owl beats by； passing close to the
eaves whence the moths issue。 On the narrow waggon…track which
descends along a coombe and is worn in chalk； the heat pours down
by day as if an invisible lens in the atmosphere focussed the sun's
rays。 Strong woody knapweed endures it； so does toadflax and pale
blue scabious； and wild mignonette。 The very sun of Spain burns
and burns and ripens the wheat on the edge of the coombe； and will
only let the spring moisten a yard or two around it； but there a
few rushes have sprung； and in the water itself brooklime with blue
flowers grows so thickly that nothing but a bird could find space
to drink。 So down again from this sun of Spain to woody coverts
where the wild hops are blocking every avenue； and green…flowered
bryony would fain climb to the trees； where grey…flecked ivy winds
spirally about the red rugged bark of pines； where burdocks fight
for the footpath； and teazle…heads look over the low hedges。
Brake…fern rises five feet high； in some way woodpeckers are
associated with brake； and there seem more of them where it
flourishes。 If you count the depth and strength of its roots in
the loamy sand； add the thickness of its flattened stem； and the
width of its branching fronds； you may say that it comes near to be
a little tree。 Beneath where the ponds are bushy mare's…tails
grow； and on the moist banks jointed pewterwort； some of the broad
bronze leaves of water…weeds seem to try and conquer the pond and
cover it so firmly that a wagtail may run on them。 A white
butterfly follows along the waggon…road； the pheasants slip away as
quietly as the butterfly flies； but a jay screeches loudly and
flutters in high rage to see us。 Under an ancient garden wall
among matted bines of trumpet convolvulus； there is a hedge…
sparrow's nest overhung with ivy on which even now the last black
berries cling。
There are minute white flowers on the top of the wall； out of
reach； and lichen grows against it dried by the sun till it looks
ready to crumble。 By the gateway grows a thick bunch of meadow
geranium； soon to flower； over the gate is the dusty highway road；
quiet but dusty； dotted with the innumerable foot…marks of a flock
of sheep that has passed。 The sound of their bleating still comes
back； and the bees driven up by their feet have hardly had time to
settle again on the white clover beginning to flower on the short
roadside sward。 All the hawthorn leaves and briar and bramble； the
honeysuckle； too； is gritty with the dust that has been scattered
upon it。 But see … can it be？ Stretch a hand high； quick； and
reach it down； the first； the sweetest； the dearest rose of June。
Not yet expected； for the time is between the may and the roses；
least of all here in the hot and dusty highway； but it is found …
the first rose of June。
Straight go the white petals to the heart； straight the mind's
glance goes back to how many other pageants of summer in old times！
When perchance the sunny days were even more sunny； when the stilly
oaks were full of mystery； lurking like the Druid's mistletoe in
the midst of their mighty branches。 A glamour in the heart came
back to it again from every flower； as the sunshine was reflected
from them； so the feeling in the heart returned tenfold。 To the
dreamy summer haze； love gave a deep enchantment； the colours were
fairer； the blue more lovely in the lucid sky。 Each leaf finer；
and the gross earth enamelled beneath the feet。 A sweet breath on
the air； a soft warm hand in the touch of the sunshine； a glance in
the gleam of the rippled waters； a whisper in the dance of the
shadows。 The ethereal haze lifted the heavy oaks and they were
buoyant on the mead； the rugged bark was chastened and no longer
rough； each slender flower beneath them again refined。 There was a
presence everywhere； though unseen； on the open hills； and not shut
out under the dark pines。 Dear were the June roses then because
for another gathered。 Yet even dearer now with so many years as it
were upon the petals； all the days that have been before； all the
heart…throbs； all our hopes lie in this opened bud。 Let not the
eyes grow dim； look not back but forward； the soul must uphold
itself like the sun。 Let us labour to make the heart grow larger
as we become older； as the spreading oak gives more shelter。 That
we could but take to the soul some of the greatness and the beauty
of the summer！
Still the pageant moves。 The song…talk of the finches rises and
sinks like the tinkle of a waterfall。 The green…finches have been
by me all the while。 A bullfinch pipes now and then further up the
hedge where the brambles and thorns are thickest。 Boldest of birds
to look at； he is always in hiding。 The shrill tone of a goldfinch
came just now from the ash branches； but he has gone on。 Every
four or five minutes a chaffinch sings close by； and another fills
the interval near the gateway。 There are linnets somewhere； but I
cannot from the old apple tree fix their exact place。 Thrushes
have sung and ceased； they will begin again in ten minutes。 The
blackbirds do not cease； the note uttered by a blackbird in the oak
yonder before it can drop is taken up by a second near the top of
the field； and ere it falls is caught by a third on the left…hand
side。 From one of the topmost boughs of an elm there fell the song
of a willow warbler for a while； one of the least of birds； he
often seeks the highest branches of the highest tree。
A yellowhammer has just flown from a bare branch in the gateway；
where he has been perched and singing a full hour。 Presently he
will commence again； and as the sun declines will sing him to the
horizon； and then again sing till nearly dusk。 The yellowhammer is
almost the longest of all the singers； he sits and sits and has no
inclination to move。 In the spring he sings； in the summer he
sings； and he continues when the last sheaves are being carried
from the wheat field。 The redstart yonder has given forth a few
notes； the whitethroat flings himself into the air at short
intervals and chatters； the shrike calls sharp and determined；
faint but shrill calls descend from the swifts in the air。 These
descend； but the twittering notes of the swallows do not reach so
far … they are too high to…day。 A cuckoo has called by the brook；
and now fainter from a greater distance。 That the titlarks are
singing I know； but not within hearing from here； a dove； though；
is audible； and a chiffchaff has twice passed。 Afar beyond the
oaks at the top of the field dark specks ascend from time to time；
and after moving in wide circles for a while descend again to the
corn。 These must be larks； but their notes are not powerful enough
to reach me； though they would were it not for the song in the
hedges； the hum of innumerable insects； and the ceaseless 〃crake；
crake〃 of landrails。 There are at least two landrails in the
mowing…grass； one of them just now seemed coming straight towards
the apple tree； and I expec