I am always happy (out of doors be it understood,
for indoors there are servants and furniture) but in quite
different ways, and my spring happiness bears no resemblance
to my summer or autumn happiness, though it is not more intense,
and there were days last winter when I danced for sheer joy out
in my frost-bound garden, in spite of my years and children.
But I did it behind a bush, having a due regard for the decencies.
There are so many bird-cherries round me, great trees with branches
sweeping the grass, and they are so wreathed just now with white
blossoms and tenderest green that the garden looks like a wedding.
I never saw such masses of them; they seemed to fill the place.
Even across a little stream that bounds the garden on the east,
and right in the middle of the cornfield beyond, there is an immense one,
a picture of grace and glory against the cold blue of the spring sky.

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