Kenach’s Little Woman 69

sang the bird, and the grey light came, and
the bird ceased; and when it was white day
they saw that all the ground and every stalk
of bracken was hoary with frost, and every
ivy-leaf was crusted white round the edge,
but within the edge it was all glossy green.

“What bird is this that sings so sweet be-
fore day in the bitter cold?” said the Abbot.
“Surely no bird at all, but an Angel from
heaven waking us from the death of sleep.”

“Tt isthe blackbird, Domine Abbas,” said
the young monk; “often they sing thus in
February, however cold it may be.”

“O soul, O Diarmait, is it not wonderful
that the senseless small creatures should praise
God so sweetly in the dark, and in the light
before the dark, while we are fain to lie
warm and forget His praise?” And after-
wards he said, “‘ Gladly could I have listened
to that singing, even till to-morrow was a
day ; and yet it was but the singing of a little
earth wrapped ina handful of feathers. O
soul, tell me what it must be to listen to the
singing of an Angel, a portion of heaven
wrapped in the glory of God’s love!”

Of the forty days thirty went by, and
oftentimes now, when no wind blew, it was