A SONG FOR SPRING. 
49 
about and re-arranged. At this point disappointment came in. 
The responsive little companion would not help ! Again and 
again he flew to the mirror and appealed to her with his bunch 
of material in his beak. And there, of course, she stood, equally 
ready with her bunch ! But she never flew down ; never made 
a suggestion, and in course of time he became a little weary 
of her, and had wistfully and sadly to acknowledge that old 
times had changed. Or did he find out that she was a sham 
altogether ? I often wondered. 
Ought I to get him a real mate, now spring is coming 
again ? I am told he would lose his tameness, and that would 
be a sad blow to me. Then he is so really happy and takes an 
immense interest in all I do, comes to look into every drawer 
1 open, perches near me when I lie down to rest, and most 
expressively asks why I have been so dumb and stupid for the 
last hour, comes to inspect my writing, teazes me by throwing 
down everything he can carry, when the humour is on him, 
scolding when 1 scold. His morning greeting and his sleepy 
goodnight chirp are in thenrselves a joy, and almost best of all is 
the delicious and constant sense of hovering wings and dainty life 
which he gives to me. And I cannot forget the tragic end of 
his last poor wife ! There are a hundred quaint and charming 
characteristics of his left untold, but you have at least an idea 
of the delightful personality of my little emperor. 
Rosalina Oakes. 
A SONG FOR SPRING. 
All the hazels down the hedges 
Yellow catkins fling. 
Golden pennants gaily waving 
In the van of spring ! 
And the lark climbs up to heaven. 
Chanting clear and strong. 
Climbing up a skyey ladder 
Built of staves of song. 
And the grey clouds over white clouds 
Race across a deeper sky. 
And I know not which is gladdest, 
Bird, or cloud, or I. 
J. Lewton Brain. 
