The Sign of he Shad-bush 
Wy spring, I should have said. Your spring came 
long ago, perhaps, or still delays. “The dandelion 
tells me when to look for the swallow, the dog-tooth 
violet when to expect the wood thrush, and when 
I have found the wake-robin in bloom I know the 
season is fairly inaugurated. With me this flower is 
associated, not merely with the awakening of Robin, 
for he has been awake some weeks, but with the 
universal awakening and rehabilitation of Nature.” 
I watch for the sign of the shad-bush. Spring! 
There is the smell of spring in the yellow spice- 
bush ; the sound of spring in the trills of the hylas ; 
the color of spring in the blue of the hepatica. A 
February rain spatters your face with spring; the 
wild geese trumpet spring in the gray skies as they 
pass; the bluebird brings spring in spite of your 
fears and the weather : — 
All white and still lie stream and hill — 
The winter cold and drear! 
When from the skies, a bluebird flies 
And — spring is here! 
True enough. But then suddenly the bluebird dis- 
appears; a heavy snowstorm sets in (as happened 
not many springs ago), and thousands of the birds 
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