THE FLOWERS OF SPRING 19 



miss its welcome if it came a little later, when 

 the air was already thrilling with richer melodies. 

 By the way, the singing came before the budding. 

 The birds, and not the flowers, are the true heralds 

 of spring. Ere the date of the colt's-foot, say in 

 early March, the mavis has eclipsed his bigger 

 cousin, and the blackbird has trolled out his first 

 mellow note. Nevertheless, this somewhat squalid 

 forerunner of the flowers, like the earliest of the 

 birds, has a welcome all to itself. 



The colt's-foot is yellow. The first crocus to 

 touch the dark soil of the garden is yellow. The 

 beauty with which the daffodil takes the winds of 

 March is yellow. Whatever plant has more hues 

 than one, likes to show the yellow first. 



Yellow is said to be the primitive colour : that 

 which broke out over the prevailing green of the 

 ancient earth, and began the long and increas- 

 ingly close fellowship between bright insect and 

 bright plant. 



Spring is an early season. Before those who 

 have eyes to see, each year repeats the story of the 

 earth. Yellow is the complexion of spring, steal- 

 ing over the prevailing green of our moist winters. 

 The languid bee crawls from straw hive or hole 

 in the turf dyke, and, shaking out his cramped 



