'Tis summer, 'tis summer, the wild birds are singing, The woods and the glens with their sweet notes are ringing;
The skies are all glowing with crimson and gold, And the trees their bright blossoms begin to unfold. The cashat is breathing his murmurs of love The stars are adorning the blue skies above, While the moon in her beauty is shining on high, And soothing the heart, while she pleases the eye.
'Tis summer, 'tis summer,-aud winter no more Is heard in the winds, or the ocean's wild roar; But so calm are the waves over all the great deep, That their murmurs might lull a young infant to sleep. The streamlets are gliding all lovely and calm- And the zephyrs come laden with fragrance and balm ; Then, oh! let us bow to the merciful Power,
Who lives in the sunbeam, the tree, and the flower, Who stills the wild tempest, and bids the vast sea Unruffled and calm as a placid lake be-
Let us bow to that God, who gave Summer its birth, And who scatters his treasures all over the earth.
His eyes, a dusky light, congeal'd and dead, His robe, a tinge of bright ethereal blue ;---
His train, a motley'd, sanguine, sable cloud, He limps along the russet dreary moor; Whilst rising whirlwinds, blasting, keen, and loud,
And naked grandeur. Awful is the tone Of thy tempestuous nights, when clouds are blown
By hurrying winds across the troubled sky; Pensive, when softer breezes faintly sigh Through leafless boughs, with ivy over- grown.
Roll the white surges to the sounding shore. Thou hast thy decorations too, although
O WINTER, ruler of th' inverted year, Thy scatter'd hair with sleet like ashes fill'd, Thy breath congeal'd upon thy lips, thy cheeks
Fring'd with a beard made white with other
Than those of age, thy forehead wrapt in clouds,
A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne A sliding car, indebted to no wheels, But urg'd by storms along its slipp'ry way; I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st, And dreaded as thou art! Thou hold'st the
A pris'ner in the yet undawning east,
Thou art austere; thy studded mantle gay With icy brilliants, which as proudly glow As erst Golconda's;--and thy pure array Of regal ermine, when the drifted snow Envelopes nature; till her features seem Like pale, like lovely ones, seen when we dream.
MANTLED in storms;-attended by the roar Of whirling winds, and flight of showery
Dread Winter comes, and all around him throws
Wide desolation. From his northern store
Short'ning his journey between morn and Tempests of hail, and dark-robed thunders
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, Down to the rosy west; but kindly still Compensating his loss with added hours Of social converse and instructive ease, And gathering, at short notice, in one group, The family dispers'd, and fixing thought, Not less dispers'd by daylight and its cares, I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, homeborn happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturb'd Retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted ev'ning, know.
The gurgling rivulet no longer flows
When he with icy breath upon it blows: 'The naked trees and shrubs look gay no
Shall Winter rage for ever? No! the sound Of his rude car shall rouse the slumb'ring Spring
Beneath the kindling sun, the verdant ground Shall bloom again; the groves with music. ring.
Child of distress;-when life's black storms are fled,
The rays of heav'nly Spring shall crown thy head.
Through th' imperceptible meand'ring veins Of leaf and flow'r? It sleeps; and th' icy touch
Of unprolific winter has impress'd A cold stagnation on the intestine tide: But let the months go round, a few short months
And all shall be restor❜d. These naked shoots, Barren as lances, among which the wind Makes wintry music, sighing as it goes,
Shall put their graceful foliage on again,
The bright profusion of her scatter'd stars.— These have been, and these shall be in their day:
And all this uniform uncolour'd scene Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load, And flush into variety again.
From dearth to plenty, and from death to life. Is Nature's progress, wheu she lectures man In heav'nly truth: evincing, as she makes The grand transition, that there lives and works
And more aspiring, and with ampler spread A soul in all things, and that soul is God. Shall boast new charms, and more than
Then each in its peculiar honours clad, Shall publish even to the distant eye Its family and tribe. Laburnum, rich In streaming gold; syringa, iv'ry pure; The scentless and the scented rose; this red And of an humbler growth, the other tall* And throwing up into the darkest gloom Of neighb'ting cypress, or more sable yew, Her silver globes, light as the foamy surf, That the wind severs from the broken wave; The lilac, various in array, now white, Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now
BEHOLD the changes of the skies, And see the circling seasons rise; Hence let the mournful truth refin'd, Improve the beauty of the mind. Winter late, with dreary reign, Ruled the wide unjoyous plain; Gloomy storms with solemn roar, Shook the hoarse resounding shore; Sorrow cast her sadness round, Life and joy forsook the ground; Death, with wild imperious sway, Bade the expiring world decay.
Now, cast around thy raptur'd eyes, And see the beauteous Spring arise; See flowers invest the hills again, And streams re-murmur o'er the plain. Hark! Hark! the joy-inspiring grove Echoes to the voice of Love. Balmy gales the sound prolong, Wafting round the woodland song.
Such the scenes our life displays, Swiftly fleet our rapid days, The hour that rolls for ever on, Tells us our years must soon be gone; Sudden death, with mournful gloom, Sweeps us downward to the tomb; Life, and health, and joy, decay, Nature sinks, and dies away.
But the soul in gayest bloom, Disdains the bondage of the tomb;
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