APRIL 



reached the Potomac, whose note is far more 

 harsh and crackling. To stand on the verge 

 of a swamp vocal with these, pains and stuns 

 the ear. The call of the Northern species 

 is far more tender and musical. 1 



Then is there anything like a perfect 

 April morning? One hardly knows what 

 the sentiment of it is, but it is something 

 very delicious. It is youth and hope. It 

 is a new earth and a new sky. How the 

 air transmits sounds, and what an awaken- 

 ing, prophetic character all sounds have! 

 The distant barking of a dog, or the lowing 

 of a cow, or the crowing of a cock, seems 

 from out the heart of Nature, and to be a 

 call to come forth. The great sun appears 

 to have been reburnished, and there is some- 

 thing in his first glance above the eastern 

 hills, and the way his eye-beams dart right 

 and left and smite the rugged mountains 

 into gold, that quickens the pulse and in- 

 spires the heart. 



Across the fields in the early morning I 

 hear some of the rare April birds, the 

 chewink and the brown thrasher. The 

 robin, bluebird, song sparrow, phoebe-bird, 



l The Southern species is called the green hyla. I have 

 since heard them in my neighborhood on the Hudson. 



73 



