12 After the Snow. 



frog is calling, and we think of the gray December days 

 when we heard him sing, and how all Winter he has lain 

 securely in his cold bed. 



All along the hills at sunset the song-sparrows are 

 singing, and the chew, chew, chew, of the tufted titmouse 

 sounds from the higher trees. The sparrows are numerous 

 mid the young growth by the fences, and hide behind the 

 close clumps of blackberry stems, or hop so rapidly as to 

 appear to run along the ground. Though they quarrel 

 sometimes most desperately, yet their present twitterings 

 seem to indicate a great store of serenity, and you imagine 

 that if you could always wander by these sunny hedge- 

 rows and through the woods, nature would also bestow 

 upon you this same mild tone. 



