DECEMBER.

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DECEMBER.

"See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train:
Vapours, and clouds, and storms."

IS done! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms,
And reigns tremendous o'er the conquered year.
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!

How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends
His desolate domain. Behold, fond man!
See here thy pictured life; pass some few years,
Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength,
Thy sober Autumn fading into age,

And pale concluding Winter comes at last,
And shuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled,
Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes
Of happiness? those longings after fame?
Those restless cares? those busy bustling days?
Those gay-spent, festive nights? those veering thoughts,
Lost between good and ill, that shared thy life?
All now are vanished! Virtue sole survives,

Immortal never-failing friend of man.

Ye noble few! who here unbending stand
Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile,
And what your bounded view, which only saw
A little part, deemed evil, is no more:
The storms of wintry Time will quickly pass,
And one unbounded Spring encircle all.

DD

A DOUBTING HEART.

WHERE are the swallows fled?
Frozen and dead,

Perchance, upon some bleak and stormy shore.

O, doubting heart,

Far over purple seas

They wait, in sunny ease,

The balmy southern breeze,

To bring them to their northern home once more.

Why must the flowers die?
Prisoned they lie

In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain.
O, doubting heart,

They only sleep below

The soft white ermine snow

While winter winds shall blow,

To breathe and smile upon you soon again.

The sun has hid its rays
These many days;

Will dreary hours never leave the earth?
O, doubting heart,

The stormy clouds on high

Veil the same sunny sky

That soon-for Spring is nigh

Shall wake the Summer into golden mirth.

Fair Hope is dead, and light

Is quenched in night.

THE FIRST SNOW.

What sound can break the silence of despair?

O, doubting heart,

The sky is overcast,

Yet stars shall rise at last,

Brighter for darkness past,

And angels' silver voices stir the air.

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THE first snow came.

THE FIRST SNOW.

How beautiful it was, falling so silently all day long, all night long, on the mountains, on the meadows, on the roofs of the living, on the graves of the dead! All white save the river, that marked its course by a winding black line across the landscape; and the leafless trees, that against the leaden sky now revealed more fully the wonderful beauty and intricacy of their branches. What silence, too, came with the snow, and what seclusion! Every sound was muffled, every noise changed to something soft and musical. No more trampling hoofs, no more rattling wheels! Only the chiming sleigh-bells, beating as swift and merrily as the hearts of children.

The Winter did not pass without its peculiar delights and recreations-the singing of the great wood fires, the blowing of the wind over the chimney-tops, as if they were organ-pipes, the splendour of the spotless snow; the purple wall built round the horizon at sunset; the sea-suggesting pines, with the moan of the billows in their branches, on which the snows were furled like sails ; the northern lights; the stars of steel; the transcendent moonlight, and the lovely shadows of the leafless trees upon the

snow.

A

nd there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them and they were sore afraid.

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And the angel said unto them, Fear not for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of Dabid a Sabiour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; We shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

THE HOLLY-TREE.

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THE HOLLY-TREE.

O READER! hast thou ever stood to see
The holly-tree?

The eye that contemplates it well, perceives
Its glossy leaves

Ordered by an Intelligence, so wise

As might confound the atheist's sophistries.

Below a circling fence its leaves are seen,
Wrinkled and keen;

No grazing cattle through their prickly round.
Can reach to wound;

But as they grow where nothing is to fear,
Smooth and unarmed the pointless leaves appear.

I love to view these things with curious eyes,

And moralize :

And in this wisdom of the holly-tree

Can emblems see,

Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme,
One which may profit in the after-time.

Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear

Harsh and austere,

To those who on my leisure would intrude

Reserved and rude;

Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be,

Like the high leaves upon the holly-tree.