Identifier: fairwomeninpaint00shar (find matches)
Title: Fair women in painting and poetry
Year: 1894 (1890s)
Authors: Sharp, William, 1855-1905
Subjects: Women in literature Women in art Women Beauty, Personal
Publisher: London : Seeley New York : Macmillan
Contributing Library: Harold B. Lee Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Brigham Young University

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romthe bog, like the twittering of swallows on the wing, mixed with lowcroaking cries. Then a bird with steady flight like that of a curlewon the mud-flats came up out of the dusk, and crossed the road, utteringits curious call at regular intervals, and making straight for the head ofthe woodland glen. This was followed by a pair, which, after crossingthe road flew tilting at one another, and turning and twisting in the airall round the semi-circle of lofty trees which crown the hollow in thewoods. Bird after bird then flew up from the bog, until the forest glenwas full of their dusky forms twisting and twining, like swallows or fernowls, against the evening sky. Next day a young woodcock was brought into Lyndhurst ; it hadbeen caught in the wood close to the Lyndhurst race-course, the restof the brood were seen hiding close by, with their heads laid upon theground and bodies motionless like young plover, while the parentbird flew round, and endeavoured to decoy the lad who found them
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<3 26 THE NEW FOREST from the spot. This young bird was a most beautiful creature, nolonger covered with down, but fully fledged to all -appearance, andadorned with the beautiful brown mottling which makes the wood-cocks plumage one of the most perfect pieces of tone-ornament innature. As the night creeps on, blurring every minor feature of thescene, and leaving only the faint gleam of waters and the black forms ofthe alder clumps from distance to distance in the bog, the cry of thewild-fowl, echoed by the dark wall of forest at the back, shows thatall the natives of the marsh are awake and moving. The croak of thewoodcocks, the calling and screaming of the plovers, the bleating of thesnipe, and the harsh barking of the herons, winging their way fromVinney Ridge to the Beaulieu river, fill the air with sound, though thecreatures themselves are invisible; while from the forest the yelping andscreeching of the owls, the incessant drone of the churr worms, and thewhirr of the great wo

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