That stoops to smooth a glossy spaniel down, A happy mother with her fair-faced girls, In whose sweet Spring again her youth she sees, With shout and dance, and laugh and bound and song, Stripping an Autumn orchard's laden trees. An aged woman in a wintry room Frost on the pane, without the whirling snow- Of sorrows past and joys of long ago. N. C. BENNET. A WINTER SONG. When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail ; Tu-whit, to-whoo, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, Tu-whit, to-whoo, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. THE THRUSH. Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough; At thy blithe carol cheers his furrowed brow. SHAKSPEARE. So in lone Poverty's dominion drear Sits meek Content with light, unanxious heart, Welcomes the rapid movements, bids them part, Nor asks if they bring aught to hope or fear. I thank thee, Author of this opening day! Thou whose bright sun now gilds the Orient skies! Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys, What wealth could never give nor take away! Yet come, thou child of poverty and care; The mite high Heaven bestow'd, that mite with thee I'll share. ROBERT BURNS, 1750-1796. SONNET. Sheath'd is the river as it glideth by, ALEXANDER SMITII. SPRING AND WINTER. FROM THE FRENCH. Gentle Spring, in sunshine clad, Well dost thou thy power display! For Winter maketh the light heart sad, And thou-thou makest the sad heart gay. He sees thee, and cails to his gloomy train, The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, and the rain; Winter giveth the fields and the trees so old And the rain it raineth so fast and cold, We must cover over the embers low; And, snugly housed from the wind and weather, Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky Wrap him 'round with a mantle of cloud; Thou tearest away the mournful shroud, When thy merry step draws near! Translation by H. W. LONGFELLOW. CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS, 1391-1467 WOODS IN WINTER. When winter winds are piercing chill, And through the hawthorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill That overbrows the lonely vale. O'er the bare upland, and away Through the long reach of desert woods, Where, twisted round the barren oak, Where from their frozen urns, mute springs Shrilly the skater's iron rings, And voices fill the woodland side. Alas! how changed from the fair scene, When birds sang out their mellow lay, But still wild music is abroad, Pale, desert woods! within your crowd; Chill airs, and wintry winds! my ear I listen, and it cheers me long. H. W. LONGFELLOW. WINTER. Sad soul-dear heart, O why repine? The sweet and silver-sandaled Dew, Some buds there were-sad hearts, be still! And some must blight where many bloom; But, blight or bloom, the fruit must fall! He gathers all-but chide him not; Sad soul-dear heart, no more repine The tale is beautiful and plain : Surely as winter taketh all, The spring shall bring again. T. B. READ. XXVIII. Medley. FRAGMENT FROM THE GREEK OF ARISTOTLE. there were beings who lived in the depths of the earth, in dwell statues and every w possessed in rich abundance by those whom we esteem fortunate; and if these beings could receive tidings of the power and might of the gods, and could then emerge from their hidden dwellings through the open fissures of the earth, to the places which we inhabit; if they could suddenly behold the earth, and the sea, and the vault of heaven; could recognize the expanse of the cloudy firmament, and the might of the winds of heaven, and admire the sun in its majesty, beauty, and radiant effulgence; and, lastly, when night vailed the earth in darkness, they could behold the starry heavens, the changing moon, and the stars rising and setting in the unvarying course ordained from eternity, they would surely exclaim, "There are gods, and such great things must be the work of their hands." Translation from HUMBOLDT's "Cosmos." |