Heralds of the Spring. 33 



trace remains. There is still the low archway under 

 which flashed the water from the sluice. Still the 

 stream pours down into the hollow where turned .the 

 ancient wheel, ever moistening with its scattered 

 spray the bright green moss that clings about ever/ 

 stone of the loosened masonry, and the long fronds 

 of hartstongue fringing all the crevices of the crumb- 

 ling walls. Ages' growth of ivy drapes the remnant 

 of a gable ; tall elder-trees are rooted in the 

 stones. 



Along the stream that wanders away beyond the 

 ruin the opening buds of the saxifrage are beginning 

 to tinge the low green banks with their golden mist. 

 Farther on, the snowdrops nestle under the bushes, 

 growing tall and strong in the shelter of an ancient 

 tree, or looking down on their white bells mirrored 

 in the loitering stream. Among the hazels that lean 

 over the brook swing the eager titmice — their clear 

 and ringing notes the very bugles of advancing spring 

 — and scatter from the fleecy catkins little showers of 

 gold. 



Even amid the stir of busy streets, the starling on 

 the gable feels through his dusky coat a glow that 

 makes him suddenly break off his odd and tuneless 

 chatter to copy the pipe of the wryneck still far off in 

 southern lands, or startle the listener with a stave of 

 song so true that he looks up as half expecting, even 

 now, to see a swallow 'swim into his ken.' 



The robin in the wayside elm, a faithful minstrel 



3 



