To the world, when about withdrawing,

With his old white wig half off his head,

And his icicle fingers thawing!

Miss H. F. Gould.

25. Gentle May,

She with her robe of flowers;

She with her sun and sky, her clouds and showers!

Who bringeth forth unto the eye of day,

From their imprisoning and mysterious night,

The buds of many hues, the children of her light.