PROMISE OF MAY 



behind a barrier reef of rough rocks, 

 further screened by brittle willows that 

 struggle forward year after year, waist 

 deep in water, bravely endeavoring to be 

 trees. They almost succeed, too, in that 

 their trunks tower a modest twenty feet 

 and some of their limbs remain on 

 throughout the year. So brittle are the 

 slender twigs, however, that the least 

 touch seems to take them from the parent 

 tree; and as I push my canoe between 

 them in a favorable channel of the reef I 

 collect an armful in it in brushing by. It 

 is a wonder that the March gales have left 

 any. 



Past the barrier and afloat on the slen- 

 der, placid crescent I found a new-moon 

 world with a life of its own. Rough waves 

 may roll outside, but only the gentlest un- 

 dulations crinkle the reflections on the 

 mirror surface within. The winds may 



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