WOODLAND PATHS 



least of butterflies and one of the loveliest, 

 the common blue, the winter form, so 

 called because it comes thus in April from 

 a chrysalid that has passed the rigors of 

 winter successfully. Like the blossoming 

 sweet gale the song of the swamp tree 

 frog and the gold of the goldfinch's plum- 

 age this tiny, fearless bit of blue is a seal 

 of the actual soft presence of the spring, 

 t which comes only when the April showers 

 have made her calling and election sure. 



To be sure, we might have a whiff of 

 snow yet, but it will be only the dust blown 

 far from the fleeing feet of those winter 

 ghosts now scuffing the tundra up where 

 the Saskatchewan empties into Hudson's 

 Bay. 



174 



