BY ALFRED B. STREET.
———
Oh, the rich, dark maple sugar! how it tells me of the woods,
Of bland south winds and melting snows, and budding solitudes!
Oh, the melting maple sugar! as I taste its luscious sweets,
Remembrance in my raptured ear her witching song repeats;
Once more my heart is young and pure! once more my footsteps stray
Amid the scenes, the lovely scenes, of childhood’s opening day.
A frosty night! the searching air made hearth-fires a delight,
Stern Winter seemed as if again to rally in his might;