Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1911-08-28

then ~ always md WORK tho OeAoe y
that tAoso axo - many Who 10 not
care To- hire - He Aaa yet % learn
that the stickee - IN demand while the
gutter 10 TAKEN - tack In . pinch.
AUGUST.
C1lanchsstsr PFsssl.
Joy the springing flowers fesl
When the sAsa clouds Ger them
WHEEL.
How the curving rushes thrill
At the kisoos Of the rlll-
How the leaves, when winds blow
free.
Clap their tiny hands in glee-
All the sladness. pure and fine.
At our feet we should divine.
II we had but eyes to see
What beside our path may be.
After the glare and heat OF July. how
refreshing are the copious August
rains: The painting, thirsting earth
opens every receptive avenue. until
stalk ana blade and root have been
thoroughly Immersed In the lifegiving
fluid. New life springs rampant again:
the fields, scared and yellow from the
withheld moisture. reclot:e themselves
In the garments and color OF spring.
and the last days OF summer wear the
1aunty air OF rejuveaated youth. A
voice in my ear is saying how about
autumn with the mercury at SO? Are
you not hurrying the incoming sea-
SOM" Possibly, my dear mentor, II we
gee the surface only. but there Is no
MISLEADING 1.-The medley OF the mead"
the hun, from hillside and valley that
notifies us of approaching changes as
accurately as gathering storm.
vt
happy hills and along the verdane val
leys surcharged with the pressure OF
life. All the life of the fields. from
highest form OF beauty and instinct,
made Of the summer months work
shop not easily closed. They spun and
wove, they built and multiplied, sing
ing. chirping and warhling to finish
the summers tasks. 1t Is to our sor-
row that nothing that is beautiful
stays. Even the Shadows, so rich In
depth and color at this time OF year.
are swept away by the cool breeezs
Fastening on the sea. Nature is al
ways trying TO tell Us It is no; that
which endures. but that which is
transformed. that serves her great
purpose Nothing remains the same
long enough to weary the eye or flag
the spirits. The succession OF different
flowers for every vernal month, the
varying beauty of every sunset and
the changing glory of the successive
mosns engage the interest and charm
the finite mind. In these quiet waiting
days We bid goodbye to the heart and
soul Of summer The birds wear an
au-revofr air Of departure. The but
ter1ies have lost their jocund. breezy
swing. and the garden moths settle
heavily among the perfumed flowers.
A little spasm catches the heart as we
see the sphinx moth in all his radiant
beauty trying his weakened wings for
another flight. and we say. 1t IL the ebb
tide, and look out to see the already
vanishing distances.
A bird. ''the loneliest OF it's kind
a. Lowell calls the phebe. il flying
from fence wire ana hack, about ev-
cry two minutes Il IL fair to suppose
that he has caught his ny every time
and he IL enjoying his feast. Il II
wee, sad-colored thing. says the same
writer. and pipes his name ~ one
afraid. but his present attitude would
belle his reputation. Il II true they are
a shy class Of birds. frequenting lonely
places in the wood thru the hot months
Of summer. but "a early spri1g aud tall
are seen about our homes and In mere
open places. Our schiekadees have Z
call precisely like the phebe's. and one
hears it frequently Ia the winter, and
this has given rise 70 the statement
that the phebe IL q winter bird, which
il not true. ~ these birds are insect
eating birds and could not tive here.
l can not refrain from adding the two
closing stan1as Of LowelTs delightful
poem:
I, in strange land At sraS. Of dawn.
waksful have heard that fruitless
plant,
Thru memorys chambers deep with
drawn
Renew its itefations faint
SO nigh. yet from remotest years
It seems to draw it, magic, rife
With longtngs unappeased and tears
Drawn from the very source Of life.
r. l.. ~.