WAYS OF THE MARCH HARE 



phatic old frogs by the deeper water. 

 Wander-birds, almost unresting, are post- 

 ing north again through the twilights. 

 Bold wild geese are awing for Canada. 

 Quiet returning hawks cross the valleys, 

 and the pine grosbeak hastens past. 

 Spring dowers the devoted but undesired 

 starling with a pleasant voice which will 

 change by summer into an exasperating 

 croak, and so many of our birds suffer this 

 unfair loss that a feathered critic would 

 have good reason to declare that poets 

 ought to be slain in youth. The terrifying 

 little screech owl wails from shadowy 

 woods, and from the venerable timber 

 sounds the horned owl's obscure threat. 

 The chickadee repeats with natural pride 

 his charming repertoire of two notes 

 "Spring soon!" Nothing is refused this 

 fortunate one, born with a sweet disposi- 

 tion and a winsome song, while sparrows, 

 angrily conducting their courtships, re- 

 main on earth solely by dint of original 

 cleverness. 



Meadow mole and turtle, woodchuck 

 and chipmunk, are recovering from a three 

 months' nap, waiting patiently in the sun- 

 shine for the season to begin. Snakes 

 [17] 



