Out In The Blessed Sunshine I Listen To A Blackcap Warbling
Very Beautifully In A Thorn Bush Near The Cottage;
Then to the
great shout of excited joy of the children just released from
school, as they rush pell-mell
Forth and scatter about the
village, and it strikes me that the bird in the thorn is not
more blithe-hearted than they. An old rook - I fancy he is
old, a many-wintered crow - is loudly caw-cawing from the elm
tree top; he has been abroad all day in the fields and has
seen his young able to feed themselves; and his own crop full,
and now he is calling to the others to come and sit there to
enjoy the sunshine with him. I doubt if he is happier than
the human inhabitants of the village, the field labourers and
shepherds who have been out toiling since the early hours, and
are now busy in their own gardens and allotments or placidly
smoking their pipes at their cottage doors.
But I could not stay longer in that village of old unhappy
memories and of quiet, happy, uninteresting lives that leave
no memory, so after waiting two more days I forced myself to
say good-bye to my poor old landlady. Or rather to say "Good
night," as I had to start at one o'clock in the morning so as
to have a couple, of hours before sunrise at "The Stones"
on my way to Salisbury. Her latest effort to detain me a day
longer had been made and there was no more to say.
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