THE LAST DAY OF WINTER 



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that covers the strawberry-bed a small spreading 

 weed, green, and cheerily starred with tiny white 

 flowers ! 



It is the 21st of March ; the sun has crossed the 

 line ; the phcebes have returned ; and here under the 



straw in the gar- 

 den the chickweed, 

 starwort, first of the flowers, 

 is in blossom ! 



But come on ; I am not going 

 back yet. This is the last day of winter. 

 Cold ? Yes, it is cold, raw, wretched, 

 gloomy, with snow still in the woods, 

 with frost still in the ground, and with 

 not a frog or hyla anywhere to be heard. 

 But come along. This is the last day of 

 winter of winter? No, no, it is the first day of 

 spring. Robins back, phcebes back, watercress for the 

 table, chickweed in blossom, and a bird's nest with 

 eggs in it! Winter ? Spring? Birds' eggs, did I say? 

 The almanac is mixed again. It always is. Who 's 

 Who in the Seasons when all of this is happening 



