FIRST WEEK] 



January 



become more clear-cut and brilliant, until, when spring 

 comes, they are garbed in contrasting black and white. 

 With all this change, however, they leave never a feather 

 with us, but only the minute brown tips of the feather 

 vanes, which, by wearing away, leave exposed the clean 

 new colours beneath. 



Thus we find that there are problems innumerable to 

 verify and to solve, even when the tide of the year's life 

 is at its lowest ebb. 



From out the white and pulsing storm 

 I hear the snowbirds calling; 



The sheeted winds stalk o'er the hills, 

 And fast the snow is falling. 



