MARCH. 



us to cast the memory of winter, or the fear 

 of its return out of our thoughts. The air is 

 mild and balmy, with, now and then, a cool 

 gush by no means unpleasant, but, on the 

 contrary, contributing towards that cheering 

 and peculiar feeling which we experience only 

 in spring. The sky is clear; the sun flings 

 abroad not only a gladdening splendour, but 

 an almost summer glow. The world seems 

 suddenly aroused to hope and enjoyment. 

 The fields are assuming a vernal greenness 

 the buds are swelling in the hedges the banks 

 are displaying amidst the brown remains of 

 last year's vegetation, the luxuriant weeds of 

 this. There are arums, ground-ivy, chervil, 

 the glaucus leaves, and burnished flowers of 

 the pilewort, 



The first gilt thing 

 That wears the trembling pearls of spring ; 



and many other fresh and early bursts of green- 

 ery. All unexpectedly, too, in some embower- 

 ed lane, you are arrested by the delicious odour 

 of violets, those sweetest of Flora's children, 

 which have furnished so many pretty allusions 

 to the poets, and which are not yet exhausted : 

 they are like true friends, we do not know half 



