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longer of napping. If thick cloud had cov- 

 ered the sun he would instead have gone 

 ranging abroad for a meal of fresh grass- 

 roots and early buds. 



For he is wise in the unwrit ways of wind 

 and weather wise enough not to trust the 

 fickle south wind, the all -too -ardent sun. 

 In his shadow he reads snow and sleet, 

 cold wind, nipping frost, that he has no 

 mind to endure, when it is given him to lie 

 snug, sleeping on to the spring's warm 

 height. A churl he must be, for all his 

 wisdom else surely he might whisper a 

 warning to these believing trees. Perhaps, 

 though, silence is the wiser, the better. If 

 they heard and heeded, what lack for all 

 the bees. 



Hear the drone of them ; see them flash- 

 ing, darting in and out, winging away full- 

 laden to the hive ; hanging, deliciously 

 adrowse, in the heart of pink peach -flow- 

 ers. What wreathy bloom it is, crowded so 

 thick along each budded stalk. If only 

 the honey- gatherer could suck and store 

 the odor of it, what nectar might compare, 

 though served by Hebe's hand? A fine, 

 warm, almond scent, it clings and abides. 

 The falling blossom has richer scent than 

 the fresh one. Richer color, too deep, 

 4 



