. Literary pilgrimages of a naturalist. ed, wade in the shallows and caress thedeeps with their arching fronds. The blue flagsthat waved beside the water a month ago aregone, leaving only green pennants to mark theircamp site for another year; and it is well that itis thus marked, else it were lost, for in the verybrook bottom where the March flood crashedalong have come to usurp it those tender annuals,the jewel weeds. Their stems almost transparent,their oval leaves so dark a green that it seems asif some of the dancing shadows found rest inthem, they press in close groups into all shallowpl
. Literary pilgrimages of a naturalist. ed, wade in the shallows and caress thedeeps with their arching fronds. The blue flagsthat waved beside the water a month ago aregone, leaving only green pennants to mark theircamp site for another year; and it is well that itis thus marked, else it were lost, for in the verybrook bottom where the March flood crashedalong have come to usurp it those tender annuals,the jewel weeds. Their stems almost transparent,their oval leaves so dark a green that it seems asif some of the dancing shadows found rest inthem, they press in close groups into all shallowplaces and lean over the edges of the clear pools toadmire the gold pendants that tinkle in their these through the grassy shallows climbtrue forget-me-nots, slenderest of brook-sidewanderers, each blue bloom a tiny turquoise forthe setting of the jewel-weeds gold. Thus shadedand carpeted the little ravine wanders down fromthe hills, and the brook goes with it. as if hand inhand, bringing to its side all sprightly life, a place. T) ~ a rt T7 ■u QJ o rt o ^ r/l -C .ti a; 1) 0 c/) 3 C dj CJ F c a -^ -> 1) -^ JZ > AT WHITTIERS BIRTHPLACE 23 filled with boyhood fancies and echoes of boyhoodlaughter. A chewink, singing on a treetop up theslope, voiced this feeling. Someone has called thechewink the tambourine bird. His song makesthe name a deserved one. It consists of one clear,melodious call and then an ecstatic tinkling as of atambourine skillfully shaken and dripping joyousnotes. Always before the chewinks song hasbeen without words to me. This one sang soclearly Whittier; ting-a-ling-a-ling that Iknew the bird and his ancestors had made the glenhome since the boyhood of the poet, learning tosing the name that rang oftenest through thetinkle of the brook. You begin to climb Jobs Hill right from theglen, passing from beneath its trees to stone-walled mowing fields where rudbeckias dance inthe morning wind, their yellow sunbonnets flap-ping and flaring about homely
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booki, booksubjectnaturalhistory
