18 THE BOOK OF 



with its sweet scented blossoms. In 

 the following spring I found a second 

 plant " near the great fir trees," and 

 another in a wood hard by where the 

 wild snowdrop grows. So the Daphne 

 mezereum may still be reckoned among 

 our indigenous wild flowers of early 

 spring at any rate in the county of 

 Hants. 



By the time the pink flowers of the 

 mezereon have faded and the berries 

 have begun to swell, nature has as- 

 sumed a more springlike aspect. Along 

 the hedgerows the lesser celandine 

 (Ranunculus ficaria) so dear to the 

 poet Wordsworth, stars with its golden 

 flowers the mossy banks. In damp 

 spots the charming little moschatel 

 may perchance be found ; while vio- 

 lets, both the sweet scented and the 

 dog violet, are everywhere. The deli- 

 cate vernal whitlow-grass (Erophila 

 vulgaris, DC.} will be noticed on many 

 an old wall, and on the railway em- 

 bankment the bright yellow coltsfoot 

 is making a brave show. Out in the 

 woods many species are now in flower. 

 In places the dog's mercury (Mer- 

 curialis perennis) completely covers 

 the ground with its dark green foliage. 

 The wood-spurge (Euphorbia amygda- 

 loides) is very conspicuous with its 



THE OPEN AIR 



leathery leaves touched with purple 

 and its pale yellowish-green flowers. 

 The anemones and primroses are in 

 all their glory, and never are the woods 

 so enchanting as when they are in 

 flower. In some localities the common 

 daffodil (Narcissus pseudo-narcissus") 

 or Lent lily as it is sometimes called, 

 is also to be found ; and there are 

 few more beautiful sights on a sunny 

 day in early spring than " a host of 

 golden daffodils fluttering and dancing 

 in the breeze." Of Wordsworth's daffo- 

 dils his sister wrote, ' ' They grew 

 among the mossy stones ; . . . some 

 rested their heads on these stones as 

 on a pillow, the rest tossed and reeled 

 and danced, and seemed as if they 

 verily laughed with the wind they 

 looked so gay and glancing." No 

 wonder that this lovely flower 



That comes before the swallow dares and takes 

 The winds of March with beauty. 



has been dear to the poets. Herrick's 

 exquisite lines are well-known. " Nar- 

 cissus," sings Shelley, 



the fairest among them all, 

 Who gaze on their eyes in the stream's recess 

 Till they die of their own dear loveliness. 



" A thing of beauty," cries Keats, 

 " is a joy for ever. . . . 



and such are daffodils, 

 With the green world they live in." 



