TH

SPRING.

HE Spring went forth in triumph
To weave her spell of might,

And throw a trail of beauty

Beneath her fairy flight,

To clothe the woods with verdure,
To deck their barren bow'rs,

And over hill and valley

To cast her wreath of flow'rs.

The skies were bright above her;
The earth, where'er she went,
To hail her joyful coming,
A welcome upward sent ;
On gentle winds she journeyed
O'er mountain, down, and dell,
While on her path in splendour
The sunlight streaming fell.

The winter, at her advent,
His icy throne forsook,
And trembled at her presence,

And melted at her look :
The storms relaxed their fury,

And drew their curtain back, And stretched an arch of glory Across her shining track.

Above the hills she hovered,

While underneath her feet
In clusters sprung the daisies,
As if her touch to greet :
She wandered o'er the meadows,
And from their grassy mould
The buttercups and cowslips
Arose in sheets of gold :

Then through the woods she rambled,

The violet she woke,

And at her gentle summons

The primrose upward broke :

Until with bud and blossom

The ground was thick and bright,

As shine the stars of heaven

Upon the brow of night.

Meanwhile, as ever onward

With joyful wing she flew,
O'er wood, and field, and meadow
Her magic glance she threw ;

Till over all the landscape

The bloom of youth appeared,

And earth's ten thousand forests
Their crown of verdure reared.

And, in her train awaking,
The song of bee and bird,

No longer sad and silent,

On every side was heard :

The lark, on soaring pinion,
Poured forth its lay of love;
The cuckoo roused the thicket,
The nightingale the grove :

The winds made pleasant music
Upon the mountain side,
And down in peaceful valleys

The merry brooks replied: While troops of happy children, The hidden glades among, Swelled with their cheerful chorus The universal song.

And still, as Spring rejoicing,

Her pleasant journey ran,

She ever lingered lightly

Above the haunts of man : She filled with hope and gladness The dwellings of the poor, And drove the dreary winter Far from their lowly door :

Into the sick man's chamber She poured a flood of light, And strewed her fairest flowers Before his gladdened sight; She shook her sweetest perfume

From out the hawthorn bough,

And wafted gentle breezes

Upon his weary brow :

Around the saddened spirit

She shed her brightest smile; And visited the mourner,

His sorrow to beguile :

Till hearts with grief long burdened With others joined to sing

The song of joy and triumph

That welcomed back the Spring.

HARVEST.

H

URRAH! hurrah for harvest! it is with us once

again;

It is climbing up the sloping hills, and creeping o'er the

plain;

It spreads a train of triumph, and a golden garland

weaves,

And crowns the laughing landscape with a diadem of

sheaves.

With its ever-welcome treasures, and its stores of precious

grain,

Hurrah! hurrah for harvest! for 'tis with us once again.

The heats of sultry noontide, the dews of eve and morn Have nourished, fed, and ripened the wide-spread fields of

corn:

The sun has poured upon them its rays of warmth and

light,

And the moonbeams fallen o'er them in the tranquil hours of night:

Across their face spring showers and summer storms have passed;

They have rustled underneath the breeze, and rolled before the blast.

And now the sturdy reaper comes, at the call of harvest

time,

And the ready grain is levelled, in all its golden prime: