How wonderful! he exclaims,--and we only regard the wonder with indifference, because it is repeated annually,--how wonderful is the advent of spring!--the great annual miracle, as he calls it, of the blossoming of Aaron's rod, repeated on myriads and myriads of branches!--the gentle progression and growth of herbs, flowers, trees,--gentle, and yet irrepressible,--which no force can stay, no violence restrain,--like the influence of love, which wins its way, and cannot be withstood by any human power, because itself is divine power. True enough it is, that if spring came but once in a century, or burst forth with the terror of an earthquake, and not in silence, what wonder and expectation there would be in all hearts to behold the miraculous change! But now the silent succession suggests nothing but necessity. To most men, only the _cessation_ of the miracle would be miraculous, and the perpetual exercise of God's power seems less wonderful than its withdrawal would be. * * * * * May we venture on another quotation? We take it, gentle reader, from a living poet, whose works are not so widely read as their genuine poetical feeling and wealth of language deserve--I mean Sydney Dobell. After describing the return of Spring, and her grief and astonishment at the spectacle of earth, pale, frozen, seemingly dead, he continues,-- "She fell upon The corse, and warmed it. The natural earth, Which was not _dead_ but _slept_, unclosed her eyes; Then Spring, o'erawed at her own miracle, Fell on her knees. Meanwhile the attendant birds,--her haste outstript,-- Chasing her voice, crowd round, and fill the air With jocund loyalty. With flowers Spring dressed the Earth; Then did her mother, Earth, rejoice in her; And she, with filial love and joy, admired, Weeping and trembling, in the wont of maids. Meantime her pious fame had filled the skies. He that begat her, the almighty Sun, Passing in regal state, did call her 'child,' And blessed her and her mother where they sat-- Her by the imposition of bright hands, The Earth with kisses. Then the Spring would go, Abashed with bliss,--decorous in the face Of love parental. But the Earth stood up, And held her there; and, these encircling, came All kind of happy shapes that wander space, Brightening the air. And they two sang like gods Under the answering heavens." [Illustration: FIG. 29.--"The attendant birds crowd round, and fill the air."]