“Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!”
To me thou art, no doubt
No bird, but a most novel thing—
The brightest paper out!
F. B. Doveton.
——:o:——
THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN.
At the corner of Wood Street when daylight appears,
Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years;
Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard