Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1911-03-31


The red bird said. spring is here, I
see her. 1 sec her" Yesterday there was
a struggle between the elements and at
The door stood Winter. grim and chilling.
ready to go II he must and Spring. like
a coy damsel. willing to do as Winter
said But this morning I'D Sol said
Winter had been here long enough, and
the birds in mating song Endorsed his
verdict. While the sky is pink and sal
mon. the call is In your own veins and
before you know it you too are out and
greeting the new order Of things
Spring is here" you say and without
realizing il you taSe the path across the
lawn. among the nickSrys, you cross the
road that winds lIKe ribbon beyond the
brook. beside the fence and between the
chinquepin trees. Fainter and fainter IL
grows until you are not sure whether
YOU see the road or a beam of light in
the water.
An, that old rail fence. the button
wood had not yet put on its coat of
green and You see the grey-green lichen
and the bamboo vine that have taken
hold OF the rails and made them beau
tifuL
Conscious and sub-conscious thoughts
pulI YOU two ways. and for an instant
YOU pause and then the woods prove the
stronger attraction, the red bird perched
on the gray green fence makes a spot of
vivid color. his song seems 10 come
straight from his heart without the
slightest effort But you leave him sing
ing. he is such a shy bird that single
step nearer and-whirr-off he would
be.
This is the forest primeval" you say
70 yourself after you pass the place the
children have cleared of underground
and made into playhouse The icattle
trail alone marks the way, the aroma
Of the woods greet your nostrils and
with a long breath you again say
-Spring is here Unerringly you md the
white blossom OF the turkey berry, the
vine grows under leaves and so close TO
the ground A little farther you see
blue bird and know that plans for house
keeping are being carried out. In the
magnolia tree you hear a hooking bird
and note the ecstatic way in which he
pours out his song. Varied are the notes
and rapid the time See him tilt and
swing and aft his head as il his whole
body was in unison with the melody. Be-
yond the magnolia. the beeches, an ocea-
sioxal pine that seems a grim sentinel
OF the woods you again see the brook
that is still singing its way TO the gulf.
Here il widens a little and over the
glisteuins sand you see minnows sport
ing in the sunshine that here has stolen
through the over arching trees, while
over the water dart flies. IN the shoals
and shadows that most interesting crea-
ture OF your childhood. the adpole seems
10 be in a terrible connection.
Throwing yourself on the grass you
think OF friends farther north who still
daily with the frost maiden Enjoying to
the uttermost this day OF birds and bees
and sunshine by strange twist Of the
mind you think OF the cosy fire. the red
flames and the laughing grotesque re-
Elections they cast on the furniture
Sweet memories OF other days come to
you as you bask in the dangerous air
and MI your lungs with the good the
woods provide. Truly your lines have
fallen in pleasant places. Health and
loved ones are yours, strength to do your
part in life and a heart TO appreciate
symmetry and color in sky, tree or bird
world.
Then elmes the thought of one who in
childhood and youth stood by your side
and Jean InSelow's beautiful lines come
70 YOU.
when remember something which
had.
But which is gone. and I must do
without.
1 sometimes wonder how can be glad.
Even in cowslip time. when hedges
sprOut.
Ii makes me sigh TO think on il but yet
ay days will not be better days,
should / forget"
Yes. indeed. your days will not be
better days" so in your heart you still
cherish that memory, but you do not
LET IL mar the DAYS You rejoice that
the world is full OF sunshine. that the
shadows have gone and that in this far
south at least Spring is once more
come"
Faithfully yours.
LIZZIE o. THOMAS.