THE COMING OF SPRING 



like branches trailed from the mass, and here and 

 there nestled the clustering Arbutus flowers that 

 breathe the first wood incense of the year. This 

 truly is a blossom that must be visited in its haunts 

 to be known save by name. Torn up and bunched 



in nosegays, it loses the 

 most delicate quality of its 

 perfume and all the char- 

 acteristics of its growth. 



I also knelt and buried 

 my face in the woodland 

 bouquet, and when I 

 looked up Time o' Year 

 was watching me and wore 

 his smile from afar off ; then 

 we each perched on a stump 

 and continued to gaze until an 

 ovenbird broke the reverie with 

 his call. 



"Does it always bloom as early 

 as this ? " I asked, after I had looked and sniffed 

 to my heart's content. 



"You can never say just when, about posies," 

 answered Time o' Year, deliberately. "Some years 

 one kind is first and then another. I us' ter allow 

 that Skunk Cabbages led off, but one time we had 



