dffar&ett 



buds be cut off by late frosts as they probably 

 will be. 



The Spring has come! The buds peep out 

 To see "God's lidless eye" again, 



To feel the glow its glory sheds 

 In quickened sprout, from root and grain. 



Each bulb and stalk puts forth its bloom 



At mandate of that orb sublime, 

 Whose mighty gaze draws out their blush 



And keeps them flaming all the time. 



But modesty and homage too 



In shrub and timber neither fail: 

 Their limbs bared in the winter's blast 



With soft green mantle now the veil. 



Thus may we learn from tree and root 



Our inward squalor to entomb, 

 And let Spring bud within our hearts 



To bring forth grace in bounteous bloom. 



I wish I were an artist in words, as Pierre 

 Loti, for instance, to paint the beauties of the 

 awakening of vegetable nature and the aspects 

 of the landscape in spring as he depicts the 

 scenes he visits in his Japonneries d' Automne. 

 No landscape ever idealized on canvas can, to my 

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