MARCH 



The other evening, as I stood on the slope of 

 a hill in the twilight, I heard a whistling of ap- 

 proaching wings, and presently a woodcock flying 

 low passed near me. I could see his form and his 

 long curved wings dimly against the horizon ; his 

 whistling slowly vanished in the gathering night, 

 but his passage made something stir and respond 

 within me. March was on the wing, she was 

 abroad in the soft still twilight searching out the 

 moist, springy places where the worms first come 

 to the surface and where the grass first starts ; and 

 her course was up the valley from the south. 



BURROUGHS: Riverby. 



IO 



I go along the river-side to see the now novel 

 reflections. The invading waters have left a thou- 

 sand little isles where willows and sweet gale and 

 the meadow itself appears. I hear the phcebe note 

 of the chickadee, one taking it up behind another, 

 as in a catch, phe-bee phe-bee. 



THOREAU : Early Spring in Massachusetts. 

 Just after sundown I see a large flock of wild 

 geese in a perfect harrow cleaving their way toward 

 the northeast, with Napoleonic tactics splitting the 

 forces of winter. 



THOREAU: Early Spring in Massachusetts. 



