The Rambles of an Idler 



blossoms, and their attendant bees and birds 

 stand for, and can tell our less observant 

 brother what May-day means, when the hum of 

 insects and songs of warblers fill the air, then 

 we do not need a day out-of-doors ; but I have 

 never met with such a man. Indifference is not 

 evidence of a lack of need. Not all the lectures, 

 sermons, books and museums in the land can 

 take Nature's place. To be with her daily is 

 the greatest of our blessings, but this cannot 

 always be. To catch merely hap-hazard glances 

 is but to learn what we are losing. If, at best, 

 we must choose an occasional day, never omit 

 this magical date. As I have done and am do- 

 ing — go a-Maying. 



That which keeps me wholesomely alive, as I 

 wander to-day, is color — blue, pink, yellow, red, 

 and white. May blossoms are everywhere. 

 Violets, azaleas, buttercups, columbines, and 

 wildflowers, all intensely in earnest, gazing sky- 

 ward boldly, expectant of May's assuring 

 smile. They clearly enter into the spirit of the 

 day and shame us for our half-heartedness. 

 The idols of Artificiality are something more 

 than wood and stone ; they have cast a veritable 

 spell over us. Sound, also, keeps me whole- 



62 



