Wisconsin)  /,t1, 
 
Marshland Elegy 
A dawn wind stirs on the great marsh. With almost imper- 
ceptible slowness it rolls a bank of fog across the wide 
morass. Like the white ghost of a glacier the mists advance, 
riding over phalanxes of tamarack, sliding across bog- 
meadows heavy with dew. A single silence hangs from 
horizon to horizon. 
Out of some far recess of the sky a tinkling of little bells 
falls soft upon the listening land. Then again silence. Now 
comes a baying of some sweet-throated hound, soon the 
clamor of a responding pack. Then a far clear blast of hunt- 
ing horns, out of the sky into the fog. 
High horns, low horns, silence, and finally a pandemonium 
of trumpets, rattles, croaks, and cries that almost shakes 
 
it comes. At last a glint of sun reveals the approach of a 
great echelon of birds. n  motionless wing they emerge 
from the lifting mists, sweep amil ar of sky, and settle in 
clangorous descending spira     their feeding grounds. A 
new day has begun on the crane marsh. 
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.[951 
 
~L a0r