THICK ICE 



gration was going on, and you could 

 hear the little seeping swan song of these 

 ice columns as they slid apart and lay 

 flat, making mush ice in the open water 

 where they soon dissolved and disap- 

 peared. Thus the ice waits the mandate 

 of the spring. Some day, soon, it will 

 fall apart as if at a word, and vanish, and 

 by that token we shall know that the 

 winter has really gone, and we shall go 

 about in a pleasant glow, listening for 

 the first voice of the spring frogs. 



253 



