140 WITH EARTH AND SKY 
hast made everything beautiful in his season.” 
Say that again, Golden Throat. That brave say- 
ing cannot wither. It must be a perennial song. 
“Everything beautiful in his season.” And was 
that old Ecclesiastic turned poet looking at cow- 
slips on the margins of Minnesota lakes on an 
April day when the glory of the sunlight was 
beyond words to picture and the rapture of the 
new year was wild like the flight of happy birds 
flying for sheer love of flight and having. no 
whither to journey? I wonder. Yet were there 
no buttercups in Palestine. Had He been here, 
he would have said in languishment of tone as 
the cowslips in innumerable multitudes sung out to 
the Spring, ““We are here to make you welcome, 
we are here,” “God hath made everything beau- 
tiful in his season.” 
God hath made this day beautiful in its season, 
beautiful with cowslips, and this is the day when 
the cowslips have taken holiday to welcome with 
unapproachable laughter the advent of the spring! 
“Welcome, Spring, welcome home,” the cowslips 
chime. “Welcome, ye golden laughter, sweet 
cowslips; ’tis worth waiting a weary year to find 
ye gladdening once again. A welcome, my cow- 
slips,” saith the Spring. 
