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to describe it； there is much rest； but no haste。 Each moment； as
with the greenfinches； is so full of life that it seems so long and
so sufficient in itself。 Not only the days； but life itself
lengthens in summer。 I would spread abroad my arms and gather more
of it to me； could I do so。
All the procession of living and growing things passes。 The grass
stands up taller and still taller； the sheaths open； and the stalk
arises； the pollen clings till the breeze sweeps it。 The bees rush
past； and the resolute wasps； the humble…bees； whose weight swings
them along。 About the oaks and maples the brown chafers swarm； and
the fern…owls at dusk； and the blackbirds and jays by day； cannot
reduce their legions while they last。 Yellow butterflies； and
white； broad red admirals； and sweet blues； think of the kingdom of
flowers which is theirs！ Heavy moths burring at the edge of the
copse； green； and red； and gold flies： gnats； like smoke； around
the tree…tops； midges so thick over the brook； as if you could haul
a netful； tiny leaping creatures in the grass； bronze beetles
across the path； blue dragonflies pondering on cool leaves of
water…plantain。 Blue jays flitting； a magpie drooping across from
elm to elm； young rooks that have escaped the hostile shot
blundering up into the branches； missel thrushes leading their
fledglings； already strong on the wing； from field to field。 An
egg here on the sward dropped by a starling； a red ladybird
creeping； tortoise…like； up a green fern frond。 Finches undulating
through the air； shooting themselves with closed wings； and linnets
happy with their young。
Golden dandelion discs … gold and orange … of a hue more beautiful；
I think； than the higher and more visible buttercup。 A blackbird；
gleaming； so black is he； splashing in the runlet of water across
the gateway。 A ruddy king…fisher swiftly drawing himself； as you
might draw a stroke with a pencil； over the surface of the yellow
buttercups； and away above the hedge。 Hart's…tongue fern； thick
with green； so green as to be thick with its colour； deep in the
ditch under the shady hazel boughs。 White meadow…sweet lifting its
tiny florets； and black…flowered sedges。 You must push through the
reed grass to find the sword…flags； the stout willow…herbs will not
be trampled down； but resist the foot like underwood。 Pink lychnis
flowers behind the withy stoles； and little black moorhens swim
away； as you gather it； after their mother； who has dived under the
water…grass； and broken the smooth surface of the duckweed。 Yellow
loosestrife is rising； thick comfrey stands at the very edge； the
sandpipers run where the shore is free from bushes。 Back by the
underwood the prickly and repellent brambles will presently present
us with fruit。 For the squirrels the nuts are forming； green
beechmast is there … green wedges under the spray； up in the oaks
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 hea