The small birds think their wants are o'er
To see the snow hills fret again,
And from the barn's chaff-littered door
Betake them to the greening plain.
The woodman's robin startles coy,
No longer to his elbow comes
To peck, with hunger's eager joy,
'Mong mossy stumps the littered crumbs.
MARCH.
On all green places where ye blow,
Tenderest thoughts of GOD that grow,
Violets! March violets!
Hidden hearts that, lying low,
Sweeten all about you so,
Violets! March violets!
The love of youth is in your breath,
Love of youth more strong than death,
Violets! March violets!
Gathered in the greening glade,
And on lips of promise laid,
Violets! March violets!
Other sweetness, too, ye take,
Often kept for saddest sake—
Kept for soft'ning old regrets—
To hearts throbbing ye are prest,
Ye are laid on hearts at rest,
Violets! March violets!
Isa Craig.
APRIL.
Emblem of life, see changeful April sail
In varying vest along the shadowy skies,
Now bidding Summer's softest zephyrs rise,
Anon recalling Winter's stormy gale,
And pouring from the cloud her sudden hail:
Then smiling through the tear that dims her eyes,
While Iris with her braid the welkin dyes,
Promise of sunshine not so prone to fail.
So, to us sojourners in life's low vale,
The smiles of Fortune flatter to deceive,
While still the Fates the web of misery weave,
So Hope exultant spreads her airy sail,
And from the present gloom the soul conveys
To distant summers and far happier days.
Henry Kirke White.