MINSTREL WEATHER 



The air is precious with the plentiful 

 sweetness of lilac and magnolia, of the 

 memorial lavender lilac that summons 

 homesickness to city parks on evenings of 

 May. The carmine glow of the flowering 

 quince is here, brought from its tropic 

 wilderness. The long flushed curve of the 

 almond spray bends meekly toward the 

 sod. Opulent is every bush, though its 

 blossoming may be secret. In colors be- 

 loved of kings, the velvet, minutely perfect 

 iris commands the garden path. Beside 

 it in despair the old-time bleeding-heart 

 laments, and the bells of the valley lily 

 hang, chiming fragrance. Impatient climb 

 the red-stalked peonies. The currant is 

 in green but pleadingly sweet blossom. 



High, thick grass and clover in May 

 fields are only the setting for the dazzling 

 buttercup, who shakes the dews from her 

 closed petals before daybreak and folds 

 them prayerfully at about the tune the 

 birds turn home. First white daisies, 

 supremely fresh and lucid as all May's 

 glories are, show a few misleading foam 

 flecks of the flood with which they intend 

 to overwhelm the crop of hay. Feathery 

 yellow of the wild mustard nods beside 



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