On a sweet, shining morning thus sent out,
It seem’d what man was made for, to look round
And trace the full brook, that, with clamorous route,
O’er fallen trees, and roots black curling, wound
Through glens, with wild brakes scatter’d all about;
Where not a leaf or green blade yet was found
Springing to hide the red fern of last year,
And hemlock’s broken stems, and rustling rank grass sere.
But hazel catkins, and the bursting buds
Of the fresh willow, whisper’d “spring is coming;”
And bullfinches forth flitting from the woods,
With their rich silver voices; and the humming
Of a new waken’d bee that pass’d; and the broods
Of ever dancing gnats, again consuming,
In pleasant sun-light, their re-given time;
And the germs swelling in the red shoots of the lime.
All these were tell-tales of far brighter hours,
That had been, and again were on their way;
The breaking forth of green things, and of flowers,
From the earth’s breast; from bank and quickening spray
Dews, buds, and blossoms; and in woodland bowers,
Fragrant and fresh, full many a sweet bird’s lay,
Sending abroad, from the exultant spring,
To every living heart a gladsome welcoming.
Howitt.
[117] Vol. i. p. 407.
April 1.
All Fool’s Day.
In the first volume of the present work, (p. 409,) there is an account of the singular usage of fool-making to-day, which may be further illustrated by a few lines from an almanac of 1760:—