It was sweet to feel.
She rose and went on.

Another field lay beyond, a gradual slope, covered with a new growth of alfalfa.

It was a light green--a contrast to the rich darkness of that behind her.

At the end of this field ran a swift little brook, clear and musical, open to the sky in places, and in others hidden under flowery banks.

Birds sang from invisible coverts; a quail sent up clear flutelike notes; and a lark caroled, seemingly out of the sky.
Lenore wet her feet crossing the brook, and, climbing the little knoll above, she sat down upon a stone to dry them in the sun.