MY LADY SPRING
"You are cowards," said the swallow, perching himself on the forest-ranger's weathercock, and peering out over the landscape.
But the anemones waited still and shivered. A few of them who could not control their impatience threw off their kerchiefs in the sun. The cold at night nipped and killed them; and the story of their pitiful death was passed on from flower to flower, and caused a great consternation.
And then—one delightfully mild, still night—my Lady Spring came.
No one knows how she looks, because no one has ever seen her. But all long for her, and thank her and bless her. She goes through the wood and touches the flowers and trees, and at once they burst out. She goes through the cattle-stalls and unties the beasts, and lets them out on to the field. She goes straight into the hearts of men and fills them with gladness. She makes it hard for the best boy to sit still on his form at school, and she is the cause of a terrible number of mistakes in the copy-books.
But she does not do all this at once. Night after night she plies her task, and she comes first to him who longs for her most.
So it happened that on the very night of her coming she went straight to the anemones, who stood in their green kerchiefs and didn't know how to hold out any longer.