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and the raven sat on the fence rail again perhaps a son of the other one, which amounts to the same thing and answered them. "it is winter, the old ruler of last year. he isnt dead as the calendar says, but hes the guardian of spring, which is coming."
"when will spring come?" asked the sparrows. "then well have good times and a better year. the old one was no good at all!"
winter nodded in silent thought at the leafless black forest, where
every tree showed the graceful form and bend of its branches; and during the winter night icy mists came down from the clouds, and the ruler dreamed of his childhood and young manhood; and toward the morning dawn the whole wood was clothed in glittering hoarfrost. that was the summer dream of winter, and soon the sun scattered the frost from the branches.
"when will spring come?" asked the sparrows again.
"spring!" again that word echoed back from the snow covered hills. now the sun shone more warmly, and the snow melted, and the birds sang, "spring is coming!"
and high through the air came the first stork, with the second close behind him. a lovely child rode on the back of each, and they alighted in an open field and kissed the earth. then they embraced the silent old man, and, like moses on the mount, he disappeared, wrapped in cloudy mists. and so the story of the year was ended.
"thats all very well," said the sparrows. "and its beautiful, too, but its not according to the calendar, so it must be all wrong!"
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