Books > Old Books > The White Peacock (1906)


Page 173

PART II - CHAPTER II
A SHADOW IN SPRING

behind. They were going to the mothers on the common, who moved like little grey clouds among the dark gorse.
I cannot help forgetting, and sharing the spink's triumph, when he flashes past with a fleece from a bramble bush. It will cover the bedded moss, it will weave among the soft red cow-hair beautifully. It is a prize, it is an ecstasy to have captured it at the right moment, and the nest is nearly ready.
Ah, but the thrush is scornful, ringing out his voice from the hedge ! He sets his breast against the mud, and models it warm for the turquoise eggs-blue, blue, bluest of eggs, which cluster so close and round against the breast, which round up beneath the breast, nestling content. You should see the bright ecstasy in the eyes of a nesting thrush, because of the rounded caress of the eggs against her breast!
What a hurry the jenny wren makes-hoping I shall not see her dart into the low bush. I have a delight in watching them against their shy little wills. But they have all risen with a rush of wings, and are gone, the birds. The air is brushed with agitation. There is no lark in the sky, not one; the heaven is clear of wings or twinkling dot
Till the heralds come-till the heralds wave like shadows in the bright air, crying, lamenting, fretting for ever. Rising and falling and circling round and round, the slowwaving pewits cry and complain, and lift their broad wings in sorrow. They stoop suddenly to the ground, the lapwings, then in another throb of anguish and protest, they swing up again, offering a glistening white breast to the sunlight, to deny it in black shadow, then a glisten of green, and all the time crying and crying in despair.
The pheasants are frightened into cover, they run and dart through the hedge. The old cock must fly in his haste, spread himself on his streaming plumes, and sail into the wood's security.
There is a cry in answer to the pewits, echoing louder and stronger the lamentation of the lapwings, a wail which hushes the birds. The men come over the brow of the hill, slowly, with the old squire walking tall and straight in front; six bowed men bearing the coffin on their shoulders,

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE behind. They were going to what is mothers on what is common, who moved like little grey clouds among what is dark gorse. I cannot help forgetting, and sharing what is spink's triumph, when he flashes past with a fleece from a bramble bush. It will cover what is bedded moss, it will weave among what is soft red cow-hair beautifully. It is a prize, it is an ecstasy to have captured it at what is right moment, and what is nest is nearly ready. Ah, but what is thrush is scornful, ringing out his voice from what is hedge ! He sets his breast against what is mud, and models it warm for what is turquoise eggs-blue, blue, bluest of eggs, which cluster so close and round against what is breast, which round up beneath what is breast, nestling content. You should see what is bright ecstasy in what is eyes of a nesting thrush, because of what is rounded caress of what is eggs against her breast! What a hurry what is jenny wren makes-hoping I shall not see her dart into what is low bush. I have a delight in watching them against their shy little wills. But they have all risen with a rush of wings, and are gone, what is birds. what is air is brushed with agitation. There is no lark in what is sky, not one; what is heaven is clear of wings or twinkling dot Till what is heralds come-till what is heralds wave like shadows in what is bright air, crying, lamenting, fretting for ever. Rising and falling and circling round and round, what is slowwaving pewits cry and complain, and lift their broad wings in sorrow. They stoop suddenly to what is ground, what is lapwings, then in another throb of anguish and protest, they swing up again, offering a glistening white breast to what is sunlight, to deny it in black shadow, then a glisten of green, and all what is time crying and crying in despair. what is pheasants are frightened into cover, they run and dart through what is hedge. what is old cock must fly in his haste, spread himself on his streaming plumes, and sail into what is wood's security. There is a cry in answer to what is pewits, echoing louder and stronger what is lamentation of what is lapwings, a wail which hushes what is birds. what is men come over what is brow of what is hill, slowly, with what is old squire walking tall and straight in front; six bowed men bearing what is coffin on their shoulders, where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The White Peacock (1906) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 173 where is strong PART II - CHAPTER II A SHADOW IN SPRING where is p align="justify" behind. They were going to what is mothers on what is common, who moved like little grey clouds among what is dark gorse. I cannot help forgetting, and sharing what is spink's triumph, when he flashes past with a fleece from a bramble bush. It will cover what is bedded moss, it will weave among what is soft red cow-hair beautifully. It is a prize, it is an ecstasy to have captured it at what is right moment, and what is nest is nearly ready. Ah, but what is thrush is scornful, ringing out his voice from what is hedge ! He sets his breast against what is mud, and models it warm for what is turquoise eggs-blue, blue, bluest of eggs, which cluster so close and round against what is breast, which round up beneath what is breast, nestling content. You should see what is bright ecstasy in what is eyes of a nesting thrush, because of what is rounded caress of what is eggs against her breast! What a hurry what is jenny wren makes-hoping I shall not see her dart into what is low bush. I have a delight in watching them against their shy little wills. But they have all risen with a rush of wings, and are gone, what is birds. what is air is brushed with agitation. There is no lark in what is sky, not one; what is heaven is clear of wings or twinkling dot Till what is heralds come-till what is heralds wave like shadows in what is bright air, crying, lamenting, fretting for ever. Rising and falling and circling round and round, what is slowwaving pewits cry and complain, and lift their broad wings in sorrow. They stoop suddenly to what is ground, what is lapwings, then in another throb of anguish and protest, they swing up again, offering a glistening white breast to what is sunlight, to deny it in black shadow, then a glisten of green, and all what is time crying and crying in despair. what is pheasants are frightened into cover, they run and dart through what is hedge. what is old cock must fly in his haste, spread himself on his streaming plumes, and sail into what is wood's security. There is a cry in answer to what is pewits, echoing louder and stronger what is lamentation of what is lapwings, a wail which hushes what is birds. what is men come over what is brow of what is hill, slowly, with what is old squire walking tall and straight in front; six bowed men bearing what is coffin on their shoulders, where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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