Washington's Birthday

The bells of Mount Vernon are ringing to-day,
And what say their melodious numbers
To the flag blooming air? List, what do they say?
"The fame of the hero ne'er slumbers!"
The world's monument stands the Potomac beside,
And what says the shaft to the river?
"When the hero has lived for his country, and died,
Death crowns him a hero forever."
The bards crown the heroes and children rehearse
The songs that give heroes to story,
And what say the bards to the children? "No verse
Can yet measure Washington's glory.
"For Freedom outlives the old crowns of the earth,
And Freedom shall triumph forever,
And Time must long wait the true song of his birth
Who sleeps by the beautiful river."
Hezekiah Butterworth.

April! April! Are You Here?

April! April! are you here?
Oh, how fresh the wind is blowing!
See! the sky is bright and clear,
Oh, how green the grass is growing!
April! April! are you here?
April! April! is it you?
See how fair the flowers are springing!
Sun is warm and brooks are clear,
Oh, how glad the birds are singing!
April! April! is it you?
April! April! you are here!
Though your smiling turn to weeping,
Though your skies grow cold and drear,
Though your gentle winds are sleeping,
April! April! you are here!
Dora Read Goodale.

A Laughing Chorus

Oh, such a commotion under the ground
When March called, "Ho, there! ho!"
Such spreading of rootlets far and wide,
Such whispering to and fro;
And, "Are you ready?" the Snowdrop asked,
"'Tis time to start, you know."
"Almost, my dear," the Scilla replied;
"I'll follow as soon as you go."
Then, "Ha! ha! ha!" a chorus came
Of laughter soft and low,
From the millions of flowers under the ground,
Yes—millions—beginning to grow.
O, the pretty brave things! through the coldest days,
Imprisoned in walls of brown,
They never lost heart though the blast shrieked loud,
And the sleet and the hail came down,
But patiently each wrought her beautiful dress,
Or fashioned her beautiful crown;
And now they are coming to brighten the world,
Still shadowed by Winter's frown;
And well may they cheerily laugh, "Ha! ha!"
In a chorus soft and low,
The millions of flowers hid under the ground
Yes—millions—beginning to grow.