4 FROM A MIDDLESEX GARDEN 



The mezereon hastens to tip its stem-sceptres with ruby 

 jewels ; its fading is ever the signal for beauty to awake, 

 calling : 



" Wake again ! 

 O wake again ! 

 Heart of our English land that lies asleep ! " 



And then, with all possible haste, 



" The land renews its strength again 

 As spreads the spring once more 

 With coy delayings along the northern shore ; 

 And, day by day, 

 Morning rises grave or gay 

 And sometimes brings as with the dawn, 

 The Baltic cold with daggers drawn 

 That sweeps the landscape grey, 

 And sometimes a fairer scene 

 Where falls the sun on meadows green 

 While the south-west leads out the lambs to play." 



These atoms of colour in the grey are more than an omen 

 of promise, and then, besides the few flower-stars of the year's 

 morning, there are songs arising sweetly in the brightening 

 twilight of the year's dawntide ! 



