and some for ever on the wing, buzzing and singing as they hover in the air! But at night the scene is changed. The hum of the bees and the singing of the flies are done. The insects have got through with their work and their play, and have gone to the places where they sleep.

7.-SPRING IS COMING.

SPRING is coming! joyous Spring!
See the messengers that bring
Tidings, every heart to cheer,
That her advent1 bright is near.
See the many-coloured train
Peeping up on glade and plain;-
Crocuses and snow-drops white
Struggle into sunny light;
And the violet of blue,
And the valley's lily too.

I could dream their fairy bells
Ring a merry chime that tells
Spring is coming!-and when they
Faint and fade and fall away,
'Tis that, long by Winter nurst,
Their full hearts with joy may burst.

At the tidings that they bring,
"Spring is coming! welcome Spring!"
Children we of northern skies
Most her loveliness do prize-

Most, with longing hearts, we yearn
For her swift and sure return.

We who know the sullen gloom
When the earth is Nature's tomb,
Well may we, with heart and voice,
At the sweet spring-tide rejoice.

Dwellers in more genial climes!
Not for you these passing rhymes;
Ye can never understand

The contrasts of our northern land.
Ye are not so great and wise;
Ye have lowlier destinies

Than the children of a zone
Where the wintry blasts are known.

But gaunt Famine doth not stride
By the proud and wealthy's side;
There ye see not little feet

Press upon the frozen street,
While the infant's tearful eye

Tells its tale of misery.

When in curtain'd, lighted hall,

What to you the snow-flake's fall!

When beside the blazing log,

What to you is frost or fog?

When on down your limbs you stretch,
Think ye of the homeless wretch?

To the poor it is that Spring
Doth her richest treasures bring;
And methinks that I do hear
Countless voices, far and near,
Joining in a grateful strain,
"Spring is come at last again!"

SPRING.

Old Winter must away, away!

He mopes about the house all day,
Looking so heavy, dull, and lone:
He must get ready and be gone.

See Spring before the door appear!
He's come to pull him by the ear,
To take him by the beard so gray:
He hath a rude, mischievous way.

Gay Spring begins to knock and beat;—
Hark! hark! I know his voice so sweet:
With little lily-buds he drums,

And rattles at the door, and hums.

And you must let him in straightway;
For he hath servants in his pay,
Whom he can summon to his aid,
And thunder through-he's not afraid.

First comes young Morning-wind so wild,
A chubby-cheeked and rosy child;
He'll bluster till all ring again;
He'll make you let his master in.

See Sunshine, gallant knight, advance!
He'll shiver through with golden lance.
Flower-fragrance, cunning flatterer !—think
How he can wind through every chink.

The Nightingale to th' onset sounds;
And hark! and hark! the note rebounds:
An echo from my soul doth ring!
Come in, come in, thou joyous Spring!

SPRING SONG.

Sweet Spring is returning ;
She breathes on the plain,

And meadows are blooming
In beauty again.
Now fair is the flower,

And green is the grove,

And soft is the shower

That falls from above.

Full gladly I greet thee,
Thou loveliest guest:
Ah, long have we waited

By thee to be blessed!
Stern Winter threw o'er us
His heavy, cold chain;
We longed to be breathing
In freedom again.

And then, O thou kind one!

Thou camest so mild;

And mountain, and meadow,

And rivulet, smiled:

The voice of thy music

Was heard in the grove;

The balm of thy breezes

Invited to rove.

Now welcome, thou loved one,
Again and again;

And bring us full many

Bright days in thy train;
And bid the soft Summer
Not linger so long:
E'en now we are waiting
To greet him in song.

8.-A SUMMER MORNING'S SONG.
UP, sleeper! dreamer! up; for now
There's gold upon the mountain's brow-
There's light on forests, lakes, and meadows→

The dew-drops shine on flow'ret bells,

The village clock of morning tells.

Up, men! out, cattle! for the dells

And dingles teem with shadows.

Up! to the fields! through shine and shower; What hath the dull and drowsy hour

So blest as this? the glad heart leaping

To hear morn's early song sublime;
See earth rejoicing in its prime:

The summer is the waking time,
The winter time for sleeping.

The very beast that crops the flower
Hath welcome for the dawning hour.

Aurora smiles! her beck'nings claim thee;
Listen-look round-the chirp, the hum,
Song, low, and bleat-there's nothing dumb-
All love, all life. Come, slumb'rer, come!

The meanest thing shall shame thee.