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Thus he sat, buried in his pelt and shivering, on
the day the Easter shots are fired at evening and
the Easter witch is burned. The other cavaliers had
gone out, but he was huddled, as usual,in the
chimney-corner.
Oh, Cousin Kristoffer, Cousin Kristoffer, don’t
you know that she is come, the smiling and alluring
Spring?
Nature has awakened from her winter sleep, and
in the blue sky winged genii tumble about in wild
glee. As thick as the blossoms on the brier-bush,
their shining faces peer through the clouds.
Mother Earth has come to life again. Happy as
a child, she leaps from her bath in the spring floods
and her shower of spring rains. Rock and soil glisten.
“Back to the rhythm of Life!” chant the tiniest
atoms. “We shall rush like wings through ether; we
shall shimmer on the blushing cheeks of maidens.”
The blithesome spirits of Spring take possession
of our bodies, and dart like eels through the blood,
setting the heart in motion. There is the same
murmur everywhere, in the heart and in the flower; to
all living things the winged spirits attach themselves
and ring out, as with a thousand tocsins: “Life and
joy, life and joy! The smiling Spring is come!”
But Cousin Kristoffer sits still and does not
understand. With head bowed on his stiffened
fingers, he dreams of a rain of bullets and the glories
of the battlefield.
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