Now bosky darkness grows. The gradual summer-light
Faint star-light on each hollow.
None had noticed Spring’s farewell or Summer’s coming.
 
The birds sang and the flies buzzed. The danced up and down in the air, till the swallow broke up the ball; the flowers sweet, the frogs , the stag belled in the . There was no end to the universal gladness.
 
And, while the mountains were still turning green wherever Spring had set his foot, right up to Winter’s eternal snows on the peaks, the Prince of Summer stood for a time and surveyed the kingdom which Spring had quitted.
 
His form sent so sunny a radiance that it grew hotter in the valley than it ever had been. His eyes shone, his purple cloak beamed, the golden girdle around his loins blazed like fire, the red rose in his girdle glowed.
 
When he had stood a while, he raised his hand, as though he would bid them be still. But none him. The siskin in the with his sweetheart, gave her loving looks and pecked at her with his . The fish sported merrily in the water, the meadow displayed all its glories and the wood stood lost in green dreams.
 
The Prince of Summer smiled and raised his hand once more. When this had no effect, he knitted his brows and his face darkened.
 
And, at that moment, a veil passed over the sun. From east and west, thick clouds came slowly over the hills, thicker and blacker than the valley had yet seen and with strange, thick edges. From the clouds rolled the thunder, distant and , but such that none could doubt its power.
 
The clouds came nearer and it grew ever darker, but no less hot for that. Inside the wood, it was as though it were evening. The wind took fright and ran away behind the hills and . The air was singularly close and heavy. The leaves of the trees hung slack, as though they were sick, and the flowers hastened to shut their . No one knew what became of the flies, but they were gone. The little brown mice forgot their nonsense and sat in their parlours and . The stag took shelter behind the thickest bushes; the of the frogs stuck in their throats and they went down to the bottom as if Winter were at the door. The birds looked round under the leafage and stared with frightened eyes.
 
And the Prince of Summer was no longer all light and sunshine. Gradually, as the clouds closed up, the radiance that flowed from him was extinguished. At last, he stood at the end of the valley like a black cloud in a warrior’s form.
 
Then there suddenly came a humming over the hills till every breath of wind had left them altogether. The trees low in great dismay; the river rose and leapt away like a horse that rears and shies.
 
Then it sounded as if a thousand light feet were running over the ground: it was the first rain-drops coming. The next moment, the rain poured down till every sound was drowned in its splashing.
 
There came a terrible lightning, which made everything visible, but which dazzled all eyes, so that they could not see. Then came the blackest darkness and then the thunder, till the mountains shook again.
 
But through the thunder sounded Summer’s accents; and never had any heard so loud a voice:
 
“It is I, Summer, who am come to over the land. Mine is the thunder that roars over the valley. Hark!... The echo rolls from the mountains; the earth under my foot: it is Summer coming.”
 
The thunder ceased, but the rain kept on pouring. And through the rain Summer’s accents; and never had any heard so soft a voice:
 
“It is I, Summer, who am come to reign over the land. All that is green shall be greener still; all that is fair shall be a thousand-fold fairer. The of the flower shall be sweeter yet; and the sound of the bird’s trill shall be deeper and fuller. The days shall break earlier in the East and be and warmer; the nights shall be cool and still; and there shall be no end to the joy of the morning nor to the evening’s peace.”
 
When the Prince of Summer had spoken, while all things in the valley bowed and listened and understood, the thunder ceased and the rain fell no longer.
 
Tall and straight and radiant, Summer advanced through his kingdom.
 
And, wherever he came, the clouds parted and vanished east and west behind the hills. The sky grew clear again and the drops of water that hung on every and every blade of grass in the sunlight. The flowers opened, the birds came out from under the leafage, the stag left his cover and his into the wet grass.
 
But, when the last cloud was gone and the sun had dried up the last drop of water and every single trace of the storm was removed, nevertheless things were nowhere the same as they were before the thunder passed over the valley.
 
More flowers came and new flowers; and their scent was sweeter and their colour brighter, even as the Prince of Summer had said. But it was as though they had all become more serious. They no longer swung so carelessly on their stalks, no longer their scent so to every wind. But, when a bee or a butterfly came flitting up, all the flowers stretched their necks and shed a redoubled radiance and and cried their honey aloud, so that the insects might come along and take their -ware.
 
Nor did the bees themselves have so good a time as in the green days of Spring. At home, in the hive, their queen was laying eggs by the hundred; and they had to sweat wax and build cells and fetch honey and pollen, till they were nigh dying with . And there were so many flowers that the bees did not know where to turn. In the wood, they got drunk on the sweet scent of the linden-blossom and the honeysuckle; beside the , they fluttered plump into the red cap of the poppy. Not one of them was man enough to say no to those flower-cups: the thistle and the burdock, the dandelion and the wild chamomile, all kept them hard at work. Did they come to the hedge, the elderberry called them; would they rest in the grass, the bindweed offered them its with fresh dew-drops on the edge and honey at the bottom; did they fly across the lake, the water-lily lay with her white and yellow blossoms and nodded on the silent waters.
 
And even as with the flowers and the bees, so it was everywhere. Not anywhere were things as they had been.
 
However many trills the siskin struck for his sweetheart, however fondly he put his head upon one side, however eagerly he pecked at her with his beak, she minded not a , but stared silently and seriously before her:
 
“There’s that nest,” she said, at last.
 
“Of course, of course,” replied the siskin and looked as though he had never thought of anything else.
 
“Yes, but it’s urgent!” said she. “We shall have the eggs before the week is out.”
 
Then they found a place where they felt like building and together they set to work.
 
But, wherever they hopped after a twig for which they had a use, already other birds were on the same errand and, wherever they flew after a feather in the air, they had to hurry, lest another should snatch it first. If he got hold of a lovely long horsehair, there would never fail to be some one pulling at the other end; and, if she flew out for some nice which she had noticed the day before, she could be sure that her fair neighbour had been to fetch it that morning. For every young couple in the wood was out after furniture and fittings.
 
At last, the two siskins got their house built; and the other birds did the same. There was not in the wood a bush so poor but it carried a nest in its . In every nest lay eggs; and on the eggs sat a smart little bird-wife looking round with her black eyes and boring herself most wretchedly. Every moment, her husband would come home with a fly or a worm or some other good nourishing food, as he had promised and as his duty bade him. When evening came, all the bird-husbands sat faithfully on the edge of the nest and sang, each with his little beak, so and that their wives thought it to be alive.
 
But up in the tall trees the crow-wives sat on their eggs; and on the cliffs the eagles’ lay brooding.
 
Everywhere they were busy preparing for the babies; but not everywhere was there so pretty a family-life as in the bushes in the wood.
 
True, Mrs. Fox had her hole deep down in the hillside, where her youngsters lay as as in their grandmother’s chest of drawers. But the timid hare dropped her young ones in the ditch and had no notion where their father was gobbling his evening cabbage.
 
And the cuckoo flew round restlessly and slipped his eggs stealthily into the others’ nests and cried most bitterly because he could never, never build a home for himself. Nor was the much better off; for she could do no more than make a hole in the ground, put her eggs into it and commend them to .
 
The little brown mice had their parlours full of tiny, blind children, who could never wish for kinder or more thoughtful parents. But Goody , down in the earth, had to eat her own dirty husband as soon as she had had her babies, lest he should eat the little innocents for his lunch. And the -husbands danced heedlessly in the evening air, as though they had nothing better to do, while their respective , in great affliction, laid their eggs in the water.
 
But the brown frog sat by the ditch-side and her hands in speechless horror at the strange tadpole-children which she had brought into the world.
 
And the sun shone and the rain fell on those who were comfortable indoors and on those who had to take things as they came. Goody Mole worked for two, like the decent widow that she was; and the hare suckled her young so that they might ga............