Bluebells.

I have seen the spring to-day,
Dancing where the bluebells sway;

'Twas a blackbird, bold and gay,

Led me by that leafy way… .
Through the wood and o'er the hill,

Down beside a fairy rill,
Where the dewdrops sparkled still

On hyacinth and daffodil.
Primroses were growing there,
The breath of violets filled the air;
Glowing from their mossy lair,
Buttercups shone everywhere… .
Winter lingers long they say;
Still the skies are cold and grey—

But where laughing bluebells play, I have seen the spring to-day.

—J. H. Mather.

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