In the spring the rivers—now broad, free and mighty—overflowed their banks. Heavy waves broke up the face of the waters, which sent a deep, , , as restless and as the season itself. The snow . The pine-trees showed lights, and a strong, odour.  
In the day-time the sky was a broad expanse of blue; at dusk it had a soft and a attraction. In the heart of the woods, now that winter was over, the first deed of the beasts was being accomplished—birth. Eider-ducks, swans, and geese were crying noisily on the river.
 
At dusk the sky became greenish and murky, into a vast tent of deepest blue studded with a of shining golden stars. Then the eider-ducks and swans grew silent and went to roost for the night, and the soft warm air was thrilled by the of bear-cubs and the cries of land-rails. It was then that the assembled on the slope to sing of Lada and to dance their ancient dances, while youths came forth from their winter in the woods and listened.
 
The slope down to the river was steep; below was the sound of water among the reeds. Everything was wrapt in stillness, yet everywhere the and flow of life could be heard. The maidens sat together on the top of the slope, where the and were covered with and yellow grass.
 
They were dressed in gaily-coloured dresses: all of them strong and ; they sang their love-songs—old and sad and free—and gazed into the mists. Their songs seemed to from their hearts, and were sung to the youths who stood around them like sombre, shadows, and , like the beasts in their forest-haunts.
 
This coupling-time had its law.
 
The youths came here to choose their wives; they quarrelled and fought, while the maidens remained listless, yielding to them in all. The young men and fought and he who triumphed first chose his wife. Then he and she together from the festival.