NUMBER I 

 SPRING 



IS not April the month of opening ? The earth 

 that has been frost-bound opens, and the 

 seedlings lift their heads, drowsily nodding, bending 

 and bowing to the different points of the compass. 

 The buds open and the leaves unfold. The spring 

 flowers open and the newly awakened insects visit 

 them. Surely April is the time of opening of the 

 earth, of the seeds, of the buds, of the flowers, of 

 the eggs, of the song of birds, and of the heart of 

 man. 



The birds who left us last summer, changing 

 their season in the night, and " wailing their way 

 from cloud to cloud down the long wind," have 

 returned rejoicing with spring in their voices. 

 Whether it be the naughty cuckoo, or the dove 

 among the elms, or the nightingale melodious, or 

 the lark at heaven's gate everywhere from the 

 orchestra which gathers strength every day we 

 hear : " Hither, my love, here ; here I am, here ; 

 the winter is over and gone ; arise, my love, my 

 fair one, arise, and come away." 



The Sleeping Beauty has been kissed awake 

 11 



