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The winter being over,
In order comes the spring,
Which doth green herbs discover,
And cause the birds to sing.
The night also expired,
Then comes the morning bright,
Which is so much desired
By all that love the light.

This may learn

Them that mourn,
To put their grief to flight:
The spring succeedeth winter,
And day must follow night.

But those that are contented
However things do fall,
Much anguish is prevented,
And they soon freed from all.
They finish all their labors
With much felicity;
Their joy in trouble savors
Of perfect piety.


Doth express
A settled pious mind,
Which is not prone to grudging,
From murmuring refined.


He therefore that sustaineth
Affliction or distress
Which cvery member paineth,
And findeth no release, -
Let such therefore despair not,
But on firm hope depend,
Whose griefs immortal are not,
And therefore must have end.

They that faint

With complaint
Therefore are to blame;
They add to their afflictions,
And amplify the same.

Tue Time hath laid his mantle by

Of wind and rain and icy chill,
And dons a rich embroidery

Of sunlight poured on lake and hill. No beast or bird in earth or sky,

Whose voice doth not with gladness thrill; For Time hath laid his mantle by

Of wind and rain and icy chill.
River and fountain, brook and rill,
Bespangled o'er with livery gay
Of silver droplets, wind their way.
All in their new apparel vie,
For Time hath laid his mantle by.


For if they could with patience
Awhile possess the mind,
By inward consolations
They might refreshing find,
To sweeten all their crosses
That little time they 'dure ;
So might they gain by losses,
And sharp would sweet procure.

But if the mind

Be inclined
To unquietness,
That only may be called
The worst of all distress.

He that is melancholy,
Detesting all delight,
His wits by sottish folly
Are ruinated quite.
Sad discontent and murmurs
To him are incident ;
Were he possessed of honors,
He could not be content.

Sparks of joy

Fly away ;
Floods of care arise ;
And all delightful motion
In the conception dies.


[Translation.] God shield ye, heralds of the spring, Ye faithful swallows, fleet of wing,

Houps, cuckoos, nightingales, Turtles, and every wilder bird, That make your hundred chirpings heard

Through the green woods and dales. God shield ye, Easter daisies all, Fair roses, buds, and blossoms small,

And he whom esst the gore Of Ajax and Narciss did print, Ye wild thyme, anise, balm, and mint,

I welcome ye once more. God shield ye, bright embroidered train Of butterflies, that on the plain

Of each sweet herblet sip; And ye, new swarms of bees, that go Where the pink flowers and yellow grow

To kiss them with your lip.



A hundred thousand times I call

Shall we have, for laughter A hearty welcome on ye all ;

Freely shouted to the woods, till allthe echoes ring. This season how I love

Send the children up
This merry din on every shore —

To the high hill's top,
For winds and storms, whose sullen roar Or deep into the wood's recesses,
Forbade my steps to rove.

To woo spring's caresses.

See, the birds together,
In this splendid weather,

Worship God (for he is God of birds as well as

men) ;

And each feathered neighbor The cock is crowing,

Enters on his labor, The stream is flowing,

Sparrow, robin, redpole, finch, the linnet, and the The sinall birds twitter, The lake doth glitter,

As the year advances, The green field sleeps in the sun ;

Trees their naked branches The oldest and youngest

Clothe, and seek your pleasure in their green apAre at work with the strongest;

parel. The cattle are grazing,

Insect and wild beast Their heads never raising ;

Keep no Lent, but feast; There are forty feeding like one !

Spring breathes upon the earth, and their joy 's

increased, Like an army defeated

And the rejoicing birds break forth in one loud The snow hath retreated,

carol. And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill ;

Ah, come and woo the spring ; The plough-boy is whooping anon! List to the birds that sing; There's joy on the mountains ;

Pluck the primroses; pluck the violets ; There's life in the fountains ;

Pluck the daisies, Small clouds are sailing,

Sing their praises; Blue sky prevailing;

Friendship with the flowers some noble thought The rain is over and gone !

Come forth and gather these sweet elves,
(More witching are they than the fays of old,)

Come forth and gather them yourselves ;

Learn of these gentle flowers whose worth is more

than gold. Laud the first spring daisies ; Chant aloud their praises ;

Come, come into the wood ; Send the children up

Pierce into the bowers To the high hill's top;

Of these gentle flowers, Tax not the strength of their young hands Which, not in solitude To increase your lands.

Dwell, but with cach other keep socicty : Gather the primroses,

And with a simple piety, Make handfuls into posies ;

Are ready to be woven into garlands for the good. Take them to the little girls who are at work in Or, upon summer carth, mills :

To die, in virgin worth ; Pluck the violets blue,

Or to be strewn before the bride, Ah, pluck not a few !

And the bridegroom, by her side. Knowest thou what good thoughts from Heaven the violet instils ?

Come forth on Sundays ;

Come forth on Mondays; Give the children holidays,

Come forth on any day ; (And let these be jolly days)

Children, come forth to play :Grant freedoin to the children in this joyous Worship the God of Nature in your childhood ; spring;

Worship him at your tasks with best endeavor ; Better men, hereafter,

Worship him in your sports ; worship him cver;


Worship him in the wildwood ;
Worship him amidst the flowers ;
In the greenwood bowers ;
Pluck the buttercups, and raise
Your voices in his praise !

Eager to taste the honeyed spring And float amid the liquid noon : Some lightly o'er the current skim, Some show their gayly gilded trim

Quick-glancing to the sun.



To Contemplation's sober eye

Such is the race of man ; And they that creep, and they that fly

Shall end where they began. Alike the busy and the gay But flutter through life's little day, In Fortune's varying colors drest : Brushed by the hand of rough mischance Or chilled by age, their airy dance

They leave, in dust ta rest.

ÁGAIN the violet of our early days
Drinks beauteous azure from the golden sun,
And kindles into fragrance at his blaze;
The streams, rejoiced that winter's work is done,
Talk of to-morrow's cowslips, as they run.
Wild apple, thou art blushing into bloom !
Thy leaves are coming, snowy-blossomed thorn!
Wake, buried lily ! spirit, quit thy tomb !
And thou shade-loving hyacinth, be born !
Then, haste, sweet rose ! sweet woodbine, hymn

the morn,
Whose dewdrops shall illume with pearly light
Each grassy blade that thick embattled stands
From sea to sea, while daisies infinite
Uplift in praise their little glowing hands,
O'er every hill that under heaven expands.

Methinks I hear in accents low

The sportive kind reply: Poor moralist ! and what art thou !

A solitary fly! Thy joys no glittering female meets, No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets, No painted plumage to display ; On hasty wings thy youth is flown ; Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone,

We frolic while 't is May.


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Found, it seems, the halcyon morn
To hoar February born ;
Bending from heaven, in azure mirth,
It kissed the forehead of the earth,
And smiled upon the silent sea,
And bade the frozen streams be free,
And waked to music all their fountains,
And breathed upon the frozen mountains,
And like a prophetess of May
Strewed flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.



rosy Spring Gives to the breeze her scented wing, While virgin graces, warm with May, Fling roses o'er her dewy way. The murmuring billows of the deep Have languished into silent sleep; And mark! the flitting sea-birds lave Their plumes in the reflecting wave; While cranes from hoary winter fly To flutter in a kinder sky. Now the genial star of day Dissolves the murky clouds away, And cultured field and winding stream Are freshly glittering in his beam.

Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs,
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul need not repress
Its music, lest it should not find
An echo in another's mind,
While the touch of nature's art
Harmonizes heart to heart.

Radiant Sister of the Day,
Awake! arise ! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
To the pools where winter rains
Image all their roof of leaves,
Where the pine its garland weaves
Of sapless green, and ivy dun,
Round stems that never kiss the sun,
Where the lawns and pastures be
And the sand-hills of the sea,
Where the melting hoar-frost wets
The daisy-star that never sets,
And wind-flowers and violets
Which yet join not scent to hue
Crown the pale year weak and new;
When the night is left behind
In the deep east, dim and blind,
And the blue noon is over us,
And the multitudinous
Billows murmur at our feet,
Where the earth and ocean meet,
And all things seem only one
In the universal sun.




Now the earth prolific swells
With leafy buds and flowery bells ;
Gemming shoots the olive twine;
Clusters bright festoon the vine;
All along the branches creeping,
Through the velvet foliage peeping,
Little infant fruits we see
Nursing into luxury.

ANACREON (Greek). Translation



SPRING, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant

king; Then bloomseach thing, then maids danceinaring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo !

The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo !

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo !

Spring ! the sweet spring !



Best and brightest, come away,
Fairer far than this fair day,
Which, like thee, to those in sorrow
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.
The brightest hour of unborn spring
Through the winter wandering,

SEE, the flowery spring is blown,
Let us leave the smoky town;
From the mall, and from the ring,
Every one has taken wing;
Chloe, Strephon, Corydon,
To the meadows all are gone.
What is left you worth your stay?
Come, Aurelia, come away.

Come, Aurelia, come and see
What a louge I've dressed for thee;
But the seat you cannot see,
'T is so hid with jessamy,
With the vine that o'er the walls,
And in every window crawls ;
Let us there be blithe and gay!
Come, Aurelia, come away.

Fairer and brighter spreads the reign of day;

The tresses of the woods
With the light dallying of the west-wind play ;

And the full-brimming floods,
As gladly to their goal they run,
Hail the returning sun.


Come with all thy sweetest wiles,
With thy graces and thy sniles ;

Come, and we will merry be,

Who shall be so blest as we ?
We will frolic all the day,

They come! the merry summer months of
Haste, Aurelia, while we may :

beauty, song, and flowers ;
Ay! and should not life be gay?

They come! the gladsome months that bring

thick leatiness to bowers. Yes, Aurelia, come away.

JOHN DYER. Up, up, my heart ! and walk abroad; fling cark

and care aside ;
Seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful

waters glide ;

Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal

tree, Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her

The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May! that doth inspire

The grass is soft, its velvet touch is grateful to

the hand; Mirth and youth and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing,

And, like the kiss of maiden love, the breeze is

sweet and bland ; Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our carly song,

The daisy and the buttercup are nodding cour

teously ; And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

It stirs their blood with kindest love, to bless

and welcome thee;
And mark how with thine own thin locks

they now are silvery gray -

That blissful breeze is wantoning, and whisper


“Be gay!” I FEEL a newer life in every gale ; The winds that fan the flowers,

There is no cloud that sails along the ocean of And with their welcome breathings fill the sail,


yon sky


Tell of serener hours, of hours that glide unfelt away

But hath its own winged mariners to give it

melody; Beneath the sky of May.

Thou seest their glittering fans outspread, all

gleaming like ved gold ; The spirit of the gentle south-wind calls And hark ! with shrill pipe musical, their merry From his blue throne of air,

course they hold. And where his whispering voice in music falls, God bless them all, those little ones, who, far Beauty is budding there ;

above this earth, The bright ones of the valley break Can make a scoff of its mean joys, and vent a Their slumbers, and awake.

nobler mirth.


The waving verdure rolls along the plain,

And the wide forest weaves,
To welcome back its playful mates again,

A canopy of leaves ;
And from its darkening shadow floats
A gush of trembling notes.

But soft ! mine ear upcaught a sound, — from

yonder wood it came !
The spirit of the dim green glade did breathe his

own glad name;
Yes, it is he! the hermit bird, that, apart from

all his kind,

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