EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 
43 
tween the snow storms, is like a speck of clear 
blue sky seen near the end of a storm, remind¬ 
ing us of an ethereal region, and a heaven which 
we had forgotten. Princes and magistrates are 
often styled serene, but what is their turbid se¬ 
renity to that ethereal serenity which the blue¬ 
bird embodies. His most serene Birdship ! His 
soft warble melts in the ear as the snow is melt¬ 
ing in the valleys around. The bluebird comes, 
and with his warble drills the ice, and sets free 
the rivers and ponds and frozen ground. As the 
sand flows down the slopes a little way, assum¬ 
ing the forms of foliage when the frost comes 
out of the ground, so this little rill of melody 
flows a short way down the concave of the sky. 
The sharp whistle of the blackbird, too, is 
heard like single sparks, or a shower of them, 
shot up from the swamp and seen against the 
dark winter in the rear. 
March 2, 1860. There is a strong westerly 
wind to-day, though warm, and we sit under 
Dennis’s Lupine promontory to observe the 
water. A richer blue than the sky ever is. The 
flooded meadows are ripple lakes on a large 
scale. The bare landscape, though no growth 
is visible in it, is bright and spring-like. There 
is the tawny earth (almost completely bare) 
of different shades, lighter or darker, the light 
very light in this air, more so than the surface 
