Impressions 



of Nature when she asserts herself. We listen, 

 then, not because we elect to do so, but because 

 of the demand made upon us. It is Nature's 

 authoritative tone, that none but a fool would 

 attempt to disregard. 



In what consists this wildness? it may be 

 asked. In everything. May is not a savage, 

 but she is wild. She is a child of Nature, and 

 only such are free from all we would forget 

 when we go a-Maying. When May arrives, the 

 long-housed mortal must get out of himself as 

 well as his house to find himself at home. She 

 exacts that her guests be as wild as herself. 

 True, she bade the rose-breast be her trumpeter, 

 but she demands also a choral announcement, 

 and it is ever at her bidding. Never a mute 

 May day. There is life enough and abundant 

 sociability in the babbling brook and murmur- 

 ing tree-tops. When there is anything lacking 

 out-of-doors, it is in ourselves. 



Here is, I think, that which sets the month of 

 May apart from all other times of the year; 

 we forget the truth and feel as young and fresh 

 as the expanding leaves. The dust of age is 

 wiped away, and the glitter of youth, once ours, 

 is seemingly again in possession. The cheery 



57 



