HEN the warm sun that brings Seed-time and harvest, has returned again, 'Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs The first flower of the plain. I love the season well, When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, The coming on of storms. From the earth's loosened mould The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives; The softly-warbled song Comes from the pleasant woods, and coloured wings When the bright sunset fills The silver woods with light, the green slope throws And wide the upland glows. And when the eve is born, In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far, Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn, Inverted in the tide, Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw, And the fair trees look over, side by side, And see themselves below. Sweet April!-many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; LONGFELLOW. CAROL FOR MAY-DAY. UEEN of fresh flowers, Whom vernal stars obey, Bring thy warm showers, Bring thy genial ray. In nature's greenest livery drest, To earth and heaven a welcome guest, Mark how we meet thee At dawn of dewy day! Snowdrops. While all the good things that be Flocks on the mountains, And birds upon their spray, Tree, turf, and fountains, All hold holiday; And love, the life of living things, Love waves his torch, love claps his wings, And loud and wide thy praises sings, Thou merry month of May ! 229 HEBER. ON MAY MORNING. OW the bright morning star, day's harbinger, The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. Hail, beauteous May, that doth inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire! Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long. m MILTON. SNOWDROPS. Y snowdrops, oh my snowdrops! How gaily, every spring, They covered all our mossy banks How delicately beautiful Their little blossoms were, Like tiny spirits hovering Upon the chilly air. My snowdrops, oh my snowdrops! In the spring as snowdrops do. Like the crimson light of sunset My only one, my loved one! From this world of grief and pain. I will cherish them as emblems Of her immortality. DOVE ON THE CROSS. To the Daisy. 231 TO THE DAISY. ITH little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, For thou art worthy : Thou unassuming common-place Of nature, with that homely face, Oft do I sit by thee at ease, And weave a web of similes, Loose types of things through all degrees, And many a fond and idle name I give to thee, for praise or blame, A nun demure, of lowly port; Of all temptations; A queen in crown of rubies dressed; A starveling in a scanty vest; A little Cyclops, with one eye That thought comes next; and instantly |