BIRDS ftND NftTURE. 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. 



Vol. XIII. 



MARCH, 1903. 



No. 3 



MARCH. 



My steps have passed beside the lanes, 



I melt the lingering snow, 

 And fresh with breath of later rains 



My blustering winds do blow. 



I bring the promise of the grass. 



And from the broken sky. 

 Where shredded cloud-flakes 

 float and pass. 



Comes down the kildee's cry. 



The forest feels the quickening sap 

 And slow with languor thrills ; 



While, towzled from their Winter nap, 

 Uprise the giant hills. 



On northern slopes still lie the drifts 



By dull December sown ; 

 But eastward the horizon lifts 



In blue perspective shown. 



In noisy crowds the blackbird's dip, 

 Then wheel in black array, 



And close in airy fellowship 

 The wandering swallows stray. 



By divers paths I take my ease 

 And faint, 'mid coverts cool, 



I trace the profile of the trees 

 On many a woodland pool. 



Nor any eye shall see my face, 

 Though swift my pulses beat ; 



And none may hear, in hollow 

 space, 

 The echoes of my feet. 



Nor any power shall bid me stay 



As fast I follow on ; 

 Like night, that slips into the day, 



My thin gray ghost is gone. 



You see me in the violet's hue. 



The yellow-hammer's wing ; 

 I keep my tryst in fire and dew. 



The Spirit of the Spring. 



Ernest M'Gaffey, in The Chicago American. 



97 



