d
reflected asphodels bending above her brink, the valley was born again
in a very pageant of golden green that dappled all the grey woods,
clothed branch and bough anew, ran flower-footed over the meadow, hid
nests of happy birds in every dell and dingle, and spread luxuriant life
above the ruin of the year that was gone. A song of hope filled each
fair noon; no wasted energy, no unfulfilled intent as yet saddened the
eye; no stunted, ruined nursling of Nature yet spoke unsuccess; no
canker-bitten bud marked the cold finger of failure; for in that first
rush of life all the earthborn host had set forth, if not equal, at
least together. The primroses twinkled true on downy coral stems and the
stars of anemone, celandine, and daisy opened perfect. Countless
consummate, lustrous things were leaping, mingling, and uncurling, aloft
and below, in the mazes of the wood, at the margins of the water.
Verdant spears and blades expanded; fair fans opened and tendrils
twined; simultaneous showers of heart-shaped, arrow-shaped, flame-shaped
foliage, all pure emerald and translucent beryl, made opulent outpouring
of that new life which now pulsed through the Mother's million veins.
Diaphanous mist wreaths and tender showers wooed the Spring; under
silver gauze of vernal rain rang wild rapture of thrushes, laughter of
woodpeckers, chime and chatter of jackdaws from the rock, secret
crooning of the cushat in the pines. From dawn till dusk the sweet air
was winnowed by busy wings; from dawn till dusk the hum and murmur of
life ceased not. Infinite possibility, infinite promise, marked the
time; and man shared a great new hope with the beasts and birds, and
wild violet of the wood. Blood and sap raced gloriously together, while
a chorus of conscious and unconscious creation sang the anthem of the
Spring in solemn strophe and antistrophe.

As life's litany rises once again, and before the thunder of that music
rolling from the valleys to the hills, human reason yearly hesitates for
a moment, while hope cries out anew above the frosty lessons of
experience. For a brief hour the thinker, perhaps wisely, turns from
memory, as from a cloud that blots the present with its shadow, and
spends a little moment in this world of opal lights and azure shades. He
forgets that Nature adorned the bough for other purpose than his joy;
forgets that strange creatures, with many legs and hungry mouths, will
presently tatter each musical dome of rustling gr