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Ed from head to foot in bridal white, like a bit of fleecy cloud dropped
from the floating masses above to the discouraged earth; along the
wayside the white stars of the anemone, the wasteful profusion of the
eyebright, and the sweet blue of the violet; and in solemn little
clusters, the curled up fronds of the ferns, uttering a protest against
longer imprisonment--let wind and sun look out! they would uncurl
to-morrow! All these things set the barely blossomed branches, the
barely clothed hillsides, at defiance. It was the beginning, not the
end, the promise, not the regret--it was life, not death. Summer was
afoot, not winter. It was worth a longer walk, t