The Book of Nature.

It lifts its head, spreads forth its bloom,
Smiles to the sky, and sheds perfume,
A child of woe, sprung from the clod,
Through thee seeks to ascend to God.

187

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

THE BOOK OF NATURE.

HERE is a book, who runs may read,

Which heavenly truth imparts,

U

And all the lore its scholars need,

Pure eyes and Christian hearts.

The works of God above, below,

Within us and around,

Are pages in that book to show
How God himself is found.

The glorious sky, embracing all,
Is like the Maker's love,

Wherewith encompassed, great and small

In peace and order move.

The dew of heaven is like His grace,

It steals in silence down;

But where it lights, the favoured place

By richest fruits is known.

Thou, who hast given me eyes to see
And love this sight so fair,

Give me a heart to find out Thee,

And read Thee everywhere.

KEBLE.

CHOICE OF SEASONS.

HO loves not spring's voluptuous hours,
The carnival of birds and flowers?

Yet who would choose, however dear,
That spring should revel all the year?
Who loves not summer's splendid reign,
The bridal of the earth and main?
Yet who would choose, however bright,
A dog-day noon without a night?
Who loves not autumn's joyous round,
When corn, and wine, and oil abound?
Yet who would choose, however gay,
A year of unrenewed decay?

Who loves not winter's awful form?

The sphere-born music of the storm ?

Yet who would choose, how grand soever,
The shortest day to last for ever?

MONTGOMERY.

SPRING.

ENTLE Spring!-in sunshine clad,
Well dost thou thy power display!

For winter maketh the light heart sad,
And thou,-thou makest the sad heart gay.

He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train,

The sleet, and the snow, and the wind and the rain; And they shrink away, and they flee in fear,

When thy merry step draws near.

Winter giveth the fields and the trees, so old,
Their beards of icicles and snow;

A Spring Landscape.

And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold,
We must cower over the embers low;

And, snugly housed from the wind and weather,
Mope like birds that are changing feather.
But the storm retires, and the sky grows clear,
When thy merry step draws near.

Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky
Wrap him round with a mantle of cloud;
But, Heaven be praised, thy step is nigh!
Thou tearest away the mournful shroud,
And the earth looks bright, and Winter surly,
Who has toiled for nought both late and early,
Is banished afar by the new-born year,

When thy merry step draws near.

189

LONGFELLOW.

A SPRING LANDSCAPE.

HE green trees whispered low and mild:
It was a sound of joy!

They were my playmates when a child,

And rocked me in their arms so wild!

Still they looked at me and smiled,

As if I were a boy;

And ever whispered, mild and low,
66 Come, be a child once more !"
And waved their long arms to and fro,
And beckoned solemnly and slow;

Oh, I could not choose but go

Into the woodlands hoar.

Into the blithe and breathing air,

Into the solemn wood,

Solemn and silent everywhere!

Nature with folded hands seemed there,
Kneeling at her evening prayer!

Like one in prayer I stood..

Before me rose an avenue

Of tall and sombrous pines;

Abroad their fan-like branches grew,
And where the sunshine darted through,
Spread a vapour soft and blue,

In long and sloping lines.

And, falling on my weary brain,

Like a fast-falling shower,

The dreams of youth came back again;
Low lispings of the summer rain,

Dropping on the ripened grain,

As once upon the flower.

LONGFELLOW.

THE SPRING JOURNEY.

H! green was the corn as I rode on my way,
And bright were the dews on the blossoms of
May,

And dark was the sycamore's shade to behold,
And the oak's tender leaf was of emerald and gold.

The thrush from his holly, the lark from his cloud,
Their chorus of rapture sung jovial and loud;
From the soft vernal sky, to the soft grassy ground,
There was beauty above mé, beneath, and around,

Summer.

The mild southern breeze brought a shower from the hill, And yet though it left me all dropping and chill,

I felt a new pleasure as onward I sped,

To gaze where the rainbow gleamed broad over head.

Oh, such be life's journey, and such be our skill,
To lose in its blessings the sense of its ill;

191

Through sunshine and shower may our progress be even, And our tears add a charm to the prospect of Heaven! BISHOP HEBER.

SUMMER.

3'M coming along with a bounding pace,
To finish the work that spring begun;

I've left them all with a brighter face,
The flowers in the vales through which I've run.

I have hung festoons from laburnum trees,
And clothed the lilac, the birch, and broom;
I've wakened the sound of humming bees,
And decked all nature in brighter bloom.

I've roused the laugh of the playful child,
And 'tired it out in the sunny noon;
All nature at my approach hath smiled,
And I've made fond lovers seek the moon.

For this is my life, my glorious reign,

And I'll queen it well in my leafy bower;

All shall be bright in my rich domain;

I'm queen of the leaf, the bud, and the flower.