The Rambles of an Idler 



the only gift of the gods. I prefer the latter. 



There were dandelions in the dead grass be- 

 fore the winter was over, and all through April 

 there was green grass where the sunshine long- 

 est lingered ; there were singing birds to break 

 the monotony of March; and yet to-day we 

 have the impression of a swift transition from 

 grave to gay, from shade to sunshine, from 

 silence to music, from neutral tint to brilliancy 

 of color. Not true, indeed, but let us be no 

 stickler for the naked fact. It is hard to believe 

 fancy has no right in the world. 



Suffice it that this is May first, and let us see 

 the world in a May-day spirit. Here are a 

 blue sky and snow-white clouds seemingly sus- 

 pended from it. The distant horizon is a less 

 broken line than it was yesterday; the leaves 

 grew in the night and straightened it. Buds 

 are blossoms. The old gray world is now a new 

 green one, and the rejuvenation is not Nature's 

 only, but ours also. Coincidence only, as the 

 dry-as-dust remarks, but who cares, seeing it is 

 a happy one? 



There must be wildness in the air and we 

 must feel it. The scream of the hawk, heard, 

 as it is, above all other sounds, is as the voice 



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