The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1894-04-26
IMAGERY OF SPRING.
Glorious Conceptions of tho Resurrection
of the Year.

Glorious Conceptions of tho Resurrection
of the Year.
Spring has comet For considerable
part OF the human race this is the most
beautiful sentence in language. 1t an
nounces the arrival of a new life, a re-
newal OF hope, an end of various suffer-
ing, conflict, encouragement. Spring,
or at least some show of change and
renewal, is always coming somewhere,
but nowhere does it mean so much as
in these northern ATTITUDES for the
farmer, the poet, the young maiden
and the boy. There is not human
being in these latitudes who does not
know when the sap begins to run up
the tree trunks. 1t is then. if ever,
that the poet taps the boles, and gathers
the sweet fluid into bucket and boils
1t down into poem. Or it is then, if
he prefers another figure, that he
begins to sing like the early birds, who
are stimulated by the tint Of green and
the flush of blossoms to thoughts of do
mestic life. Why is it that spring poet
ry is considered fresh" and is quoted
low in the market? There is a notion
that it is immature. People say that
they do not care to drink so much sap;
they want art applied to the natural
product; they want it boiled down
tillit will crystalline. They say that
much of the spring poetry is sticky, by
which they mean sentimental. There
Is some injustice in this The poet is
really moved by the universal senti-
ment, and it seems hard that his prod
get should be classed as raw material.
THERE'S no sound sweeter to country
ears than the cackle of the spring hen
some morning when the south wind
blows and the snow banks are shrink
ing away, when the barn door is open,
and the caves are dripping, and the
fleecy clouds promise transition, both
showers and fine weather. The hen is
not making music, but she announces
that she has begun the production OF
somewhat indefinite series of new
lives. To us who know life there is a
note of sadness in the cackle, for it is
probable that the maternal instinct of
the hen is to be disappointed by the
nest-hunting boy and the greed of the
family, and all her exuberant joy of
life turned into a commercial opera
ton. But no objection is made against
the eggs because they are too fresh.
Nor is any question raised by the
statesmen in Washington whether
they are raw material or finished
product To the hen they are both,
The hen is no tariff reformer. She is
just solicitous for the prosperity of her
race The poet is sometimes more cul-
pable than the hen. He has no ambi-
tious patience to sit upon his eggs
long enough to determine whether
they have or have not life in them, but
he sells them to the magazines and
newspapers and the public is so often
deceived that it raises cry that raw
material should not come in free.
But this line of remark belittles the
glorious conception of the resurrection
time of the year 1t is a sort of Miriam
song of triumph that the Red Sea is
passed, and that the horrid forces of
the enemy are drowned in the spring
freshet. There is also in it the feeling
of security and confidence that what
ever Frost and Thaw may do hereafter,
things are going in the right direction,
and the sun is every morning rising
further north. In this exultant spirit
it is easy to forgive enemies and cred
itors. There are so many signs OF
coming abundance and gracious ease
in living. Spring has come! But let
there be no grains of deception in these
papers. 1t has come to the reader, but
not to the writer. There can be no
confidence in the study if its integrity
is doubted. Its reasoning may not
commend itself to the reader, but it is
necessary that there should be belief
in it's honesty While this song of the
Vernal Equinox is being penned, the
ground is white with snow, the bare
branches of the trees are thrashing
about in cruel northwest gale, there
is sort of lurid light along the west
ern sky, which if seen by a sailor at
sea would make him reef his sails and
send the passengers below, and the
telegraph announces that a Rocky
Mountain cyclone is travelling thither,
Waiting along in the arms of a Texan
hurricane. These are the facts. All
the rest is the work of the magma
ton. And it is justified. For the New
England man, most part Of the year,
lives by his imagination. Without it
he would perish. Charles Dudley War
per in HarDer's MaUaZine