36 WITH EARTH AND SKY 
first wanderers forth to beckon to the spring! 
My heart sang out loud; and through the pine 
woods and the naked oaks I called, “Found! 
found!” I sat down and then sprawled on the 
leaves under whose grace of covert the arbutus 
grew and watched the wan faces of the earliest 
flowers. How gentle the perfume, how blushing 
pale the bloom! Through the dull anger of the 
unangry leaves of oak came the calm scent lifted 
from the quiet flower and I pulled the leaves 
aside and in their still underworld smiled the 
wistful flower of the daydawn of the year— 
smiling like an awakening dream, unafraid of sur- 
prise, vital but not discontented, only arrived at 
perfume and at flower—the trailing arbutus, 
first breaker of the winter’s reign, calm, blessed 
witnesser of spring and the regality of bloom. 
I, born far from these zones of bloom, had seen 
the trailing arbutus neglectful of winter and his 
reign and wrath, and wistful for the spring and 
harbinger of the thing it was wistful for. 
And yonder was the sea and here the flower; 
and which was greater marvel, none knew save 
God; and God held his peace. 
