But the lady of the woods had the
best of it so far as decoration went. Never
new-crowned head wore in its coronet
Life as hers did,--fledgling life.

For amid the heart-shaped leaves, so
brightly green, was the cap-sheaf of summer
wear:

"A nest of robins in her hair."

The poet who penned that line would
have gloried in the sight of her, that bungalow
birch tree, a tall, straight specimen,
radiant as a silver taper from the black,
frescoed ring about the foot to the top-most
ivory twig, and here and there
amid the fluttering, pea-green tresses a
little tuft of Conscious life--a nestling
with ?? open beak and craving, coralline
throat.

He would have joyed in the sight of the
tree-loving Group, too, as the earth was
turned and the first silver sapling rooted
deep to the music of Tomoke's voice,
softly proclaiming:

[[209]]

p208 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p209w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p210

v?