MARCH 
When daffodils begin to peer, 
With heigh ! the doxy over the dale, 
Why, then comes in the sweet o’ the year ; 
For the red blood reigns in the winter’s pale. 
The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, 
With heigh ! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! 
, Doth set my pugging tooth on edge ; 
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. 
Winter's Tale , IV. iii. i. 
H OW the boisterous equinox bends almost to the 
breaking, the naked branches of the trees! 
How it howls about the chimney-stacks and whistles 
through the keyhole and tosses the catkins of hazel 
and the reddening purples of the willows fringing 
the brooks ! But for all that 
March winds, 
April showers, 
Bring forth May flowers ; 
so runs the jingling adage of the rustic. In leafy 
Warwickshire the reddish-green balls of flowers crowd 
on the branches of the typical tree of the county, the 
elm, just as they did in Shakespeare’s day. The elm 
is a handsome tree in early summer, raising its verdure 
some 120 feet from the ground, but by-andby, 
when the sun and rain have marred its first beauty, 
how dingy it appears. Its brightness vanishes, and 
nought but a dull, lifeless, neutral green takes its 
place. We have two species, one native, Ulmm 
10—2 [ 147 ] 
