The Promise of May. 21 



of wood-anemones are scattered like drifted snow- 

 under the bushes, with here and there among them 

 the brilliant colour of the early orchis. 



The thickets have a tinge of vivid green ; and all 

 around there springs a forest of bright pointed leaves, 

 heralds of the bluebells that in May will gather in a 

 purple mist far and wide in the cool green shadows. 



Daffodils have long been in their prime, and still 

 flame among the thickets, and wander out through the 

 straggling hedgerow into the pastures round the old 

 manor-house, 



Till the broad meadows seem to blaze 

 Fields of the Cloth of Gold. 



Primroses cluster thick along the banks, and all the 

 lanes are conscious of their soft perfume. Violets, 

 nestling in the cool rank herbage along the edge 

 of the copse, betray themselves by their fragrant 

 breath. 



Even the cold heart of the city feels the generous 

 glow ; the sunny slopes of the Riviera are plundered 

 of cool white lilies, bright anemones, and sweet nar- 

 cissus, to light the grayness of the London streets. 



But in accents plainer than the mute faces of the 

 flowers, the voices of the birds are full of the coming 

 of the spring. And everywhere, in all the country- 

 side, undismayed by sullen skies and bitter weather, 

 the light-hearted minstrels swell their merry throats 

 with music all the live-long day. The happy skylark, 



