'* Gardens interspersed with flowering beds, 

 That catch the scent of blooming groves**' 



COWPER. 



APRIL 



The wood's trees drip with April rain 



That o'er the land has lately passed ; 

 Winter's last hungry wolf is slain, 



Has ceased to wail and howl at last. 



The branches now the sun glints through, 



The rain-jewels in a cascade fall 

 Like golden globes of giant dew, 



And through the moist air cuckoos call. 



/ T" A O-DAY, many fantastic pictures are woven for me as I 

 * look across a stretch of pasture-lands, woods and corn- 

 green acres, shimmering beneath a blue sky like one great 

 emerald, the colour relieved only by the crows that are pacing 

 the furrows, appearing 



"As jewels of jet 

 In emerald set." 



How blue the sky of April always is ! Like a limitless sea 

 it gleams above us, that, rippling earthward, breaks upon tree 

 and hedge and garden in foam of blossoms. The serene air 

 is full of song and fragrance, and as I breathe the scented 

 zephyr and listen to joyful bird-melodies I remember a pretty 

 flower-fancy that I had somewhere read : " The perfume of 

 flowers is the breath of God. When first He created the 

 flowers, He thought with what special gift should He endow 

 them. Looking upon the birds He said, ' Behold I have 

 given to them the power of flight and the charm of song,' 

 and breathing upon the flowers, He whispered, * Be ye filled 



