THE CREST OF SPRING 



at the hive in time to murmur of his 

 heavy day of posting from garden to 

 meadow! Dowered with a white sim- 

 plicity beyond the pensive moonflower's, 

 the bracts of the dogwood seem afloat 

 among gray branches misty, seen far off; 

 clear cut to nearer view; eloquent of spring; 

 without fragrance as without pretense. 

 The mountain laurel holds above gleam- 

 ing leaves its marvelously carven cups, 

 faint pink or white, amber-flecked. All 

 winter it has kept the green, when ground 

 pine lay snowbound and spruces sagged 

 with sleet. The victor may find his wreath 

 at any time of year, for our laurel has it* 

 ready. High toward the stars in regal 

 manner the tulip trees lift their broader 

 chalices. It is probably in these, on the 

 topmost boughs, that the fairies sleep 

 where mortals never climb up to look in. 

 Bilberry, shadbush, and brier stand in 

 May marriage robes of white, quiet and 

 beautiful, scented at dusk when the sun 

 warmth begins to leave the blossoms. 

 The red haw wears a little fine golden lace. 

 Farther south the rhododendron is gor- 

 geously displayed magenta verging on 

 damson. 



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