e as the soul's worst foe
For the sake of those eyes you forgot all else
Her eyes were like open windows
Last Day we shall be called to account for every word we utter
Laugh at him with friendly mockery, such as hurts no man
Maid who gives hope to a suitor though she has no mind to hear
May they avoid the rocks on which I have bruised my feet
Men folks thought more about me than I deemed convenient
No man gains profit by any experience other than his own
One of those women who will not bear to be withstood
The god Amor is the best schoolmaster
They who will, can
When men-children deem maids to be weak and unfit for true sport

MARGERY

By Georg Ebers

Volume 2.

CHAPTER VI.

Summer wore away; the oats in the forest were garnered and the vintage
had begun in the vine-lands. It was a right glorious sunny day; and if
you ask me at which time of the year forest life is the sweeter, whether
in Springtide or in Autumn, I could scarce say.

Aye, it is fair indeed in the woods when Spring comes gaily in. Spring is
the very Saviour, as it were, of all the numberless folk, great and
small, which grow green and blossom there, wherefore the forest holds
festival for his birthday and cradle feast as is but fitting! The
fir-tree lights up brighter tips to its boughs, as children do with
tapers at Christmastide. Then comes the largesse. It lasts much more than
one evening, and the gifts bestowed on all are without number, and bright
and various indeed to behold. As a father's tinkling bell brings the
children together, so the snowdrop bells call forth all the other
flowers. First and foremost comes the primrose, and cowslips--Heaven's
keys as we call them--open the gates to all the other children of the
Spring. "Come forth, come forth!" the returning birds shout from out the
bushes, and silver-grey catkins sprout on every twig. Beech leaves burst
off their sharp, brown sheaths and open to the light, as soft as taffety
and as green as emeralds.

The other trees follow the example, and so teach their boughs to make a
leafy shade against the sun as it mounts higher. Every creature that
loves its kind finds a voice under the blossoming May, and the dumb
forest is full of the call and answer of thankful and gladsome loving
things which have met together, and of sweet tunefulness and songs of
bridal joy.

Round nests have come into being in a thousand secre