BIRDS mv NftTURE. 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY, 



THE SILVER THAW. 



There came a day of showers 



Upon the shrinking snow ; 

 The night wind sighed of flowers, 



The softening sky hung low. 

 Midwinter for a space, 

 Foreshadowing April's face, 

 The white world caught the fancy 



And would not let it go. 



In reawakening courses • But antic Time had cheated 



The brooks rejoiced the land; With hope's elusive gleam ; 



We dreamed the Spring's shy forces The phantom Spring, defeated, 



W^re gathering close at hand. Fled down the ways of dream. 



The dripping buds were stirred And in the night the reign 



As if the sap had heard Of Winter came again, 



The long-desired persuasion With frost upon the forest, 

 Of April's soft command. And stillness on the stream. 



When mom, in rose and crocus, 



Came up the bitter sky, 

 Celestial beams awoke us 



To wondering ecstasy. 

 The Wizard Winter's spell 

 Had wrought so passing well. 

 The earth w^as bathed in glory 



As if God's smile were nigh. 



The silvered saplings, bending, In crystalline confusion 



Flashed in a rain of gems, All beauty came to birth ; 



The statelier trees, attending, It was a kind illusion, 



Blazed in their diadems. To comfort waiting earth. 



White fire and amethyst. To bid the buds forget 



All common things had kissed. The Spring so distant yet, 



And chrysolites and sapphires And hearts no more remember 



Adorned the bramble stems. The iron season's dearth. 



— Charles G. D. Roberts. 



