. Literary pilgrimages of a naturalist. n meadow to hear the blackbirds sing. Thisyear I have not found the larger fringed orchid,the Habenaria fimbriata, which comes to themeadow less often, a flower which one mightfancy the mother of the other, coming to lead thetruant home again to the seclusion of the wood-land shadows. In all the fairy nooks of this valleyferns spring up like vagrant, delicate fancies thatare real while you hold them in close contem-plation, yet vanish into the green of the surround-ings, as the form of a poets thought fades whenyou take your eye from the printed page, th
. Literary pilgrimages of a naturalist. n meadow to hear the blackbirds sing. Thisyear I have not found the larger fringed orchid,the Habenaria fimbriata, which comes to themeadow less often, a flower which one mightfancy the mother of the other, coming to lead thetruant home again to the seclusion of the wood-land shadows. In all the fairy nooks of this valleyferns spring up like vagrant, delicate fancies thatare real while you hold them in close contem-plation, yet vanish into the green of the surround-ings, as the form of a poets thought fades whenyou take your eye from the printed page, thoughthe thought itself lingers long in your the shallow meadow that was once the tinypond stands, shoulder high to the feeding cattle,a solid, serried phalanx of the tall sagittaria, itsheart-shaped, lanceolate, pointed leaves aimingthis way and that, as if to fend it with keen tipsfrom the eager browsers. These wade throughit indeed, but do not feed on it, plunging their headsdeep amoung the spear points to gather the tender. be ^ a IN OLD PONKAPOAG 37 herbage beneath. While I watched them twoof these, half-grown Holstein heifers, boundedfriskily to the hard turf of the cedar-guardedpasture above and raced in a satyr-like romp overthe close turf and among the cedars for a was as if they knew that Corydon had justvanished up that roadside in Arcady in pursuitof the maiden that the Pilgrim described to him,and the valley was free from all supervision for atime. The white spikes of bloom on the water-plantain nodded to let them pass, and nodded againas if they too knew why the satyrs frisked and onwhat errand the shepherd had gone. Daintiest of embodied thoughts which flit alongthis sequestered valley are the butterflies. Thisis their feasting time of year, for now the milkweedblooms hang crowded umbels of sticky sweetnessthat no honey-loving insect can resist. Com-monest of these by the brookside is Asclepiascornuti with its large pale leaves and its dullgreeni
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booki, booksubjectnaturalhistory
