250 Twelve Months With 



"What says the world? 

 Winter's my rest; 

 After a revel — 

 Slumber is best." 



But by the time February has come we begin 

 to look forward to another debauch. Winter has 

 outworn its welcome, and we have rested enough. 

 We long for the life and stimulating joys of spring 

 and summer. 



Nature's army of reanimated things is gather- 

 ing to drive grim fighting February from the field, 

 and although He marshals all the scattering forces 

 of Winter, they are never able to do more than 

 cover His inevitable retreat. While He blusters 

 and storms in His valiant efforts to save the frozen 

 fortresses and crystal palaces of Winter from the 

 advancing hosts of Spring, the high-ascending sun 

 looks into His face, and, blinded by its new light. 

 He slowly backs across the fields and woods into 

 the receding north, leaving the ruins of Winter 

 about Him. 



Etheh^-^^n Wetherald pictures His overthrow in 

 her lines "To February" : 



"Build high your white and dazzling palaces, 

 Strengthen your bridges, fortify your towers. 

 Storm with a loud and portentous lip. 

 And April with a fragmentary breeze, 

 And half a score of gentle golden hours. 

 Shall leave no trace of your stern workmanship !" 



