LIII 



FEBRUARY DAYS 



IN the blur of storm or under clear 

 skies, the span of daylight stretches 

 farther from the fading dusk of dawn to 

 the thickening dusk of evening. Now 

 in the silent downfall of snow, now in 

 the drift and whirl of flakes driven from 

 the sky and tossed from the earth by the 

 shrieking wind, the day's passage is un- 

 marked by shadows. It is but a long 

 twilight, coming upon the world out of 

 one misty gloom, and going from it into 

 another. Now the stars fade and van- 

 ish in the yellow morning sky, the long 

 shadows of the hills, clear cut on the 

 shining fields, swing slowly northward 

 and draw eastward to the netted umbrage 

 of the wood. So the dazzling day grows 

 and wanes and the attenuated shadows 

 are again stretched to their utmost, then 

 dissolved in the flood of shade, and the 

 pursued sunlight takes flight from the 

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