MARCH 



23 



Round to the white bridge, where the red-maple 

 buds are already much expanded, foretelling sum- 

 mer, though our eyes see only winter as yet. As I 

 sit under their boughs looking into the sky, I sud- 

 denly see the myriad black dots of the expanded 

 buds against the sky. Their sap is flowing. The 

 elm buds, too, I find are expanded, though on earth 

 are no signs of spring. 



THORBAU : Early Spring in Massachusetts. 



I hear the pleasant phoebe note of the chickadee. 

 It is, methinks, more like a wilderness note than 

 any other I have heard yet. 



THOREAU: Early Spring in Massachusetts. 



24 



I hear the bluebird, the song sparrow, and the 

 robin, and the note of the lark leaks up through 

 the meadows, as if its bill had been thawed by the 



warm sun. 



THOREAU: Early Spring in Massachusetts. 



The woodchuck and the chipmunk have got on 

 top of the world again. You hear the half queru- 

 lous, half chuckling whistle of the one, the full- 

 mouthed persistent cluck of the other, voicing rec- 

 ognition of the season. 



ROBINSON: In New England Fields and Woods. 



