The hop in blossom climbs the lofty pole,
Nor dreads the lightning, though the thunders roll.
The vegetable world is all alive;
Green grows the gooseberry on its bush of thorn.
The infant bees now swarm about the hive,
And the sweet bean perfumes the lap of morn.
Millions of embryos take the wing to fly;
The young inherit, and the old ones die.
AUTUMN.
I have heard a person, who had travelled in different countries, say, that he would like to spend the spring in Italy, the summer in England, the winter in the island of Cuba, and the autumn in the United States. It is a season “when the moon stays longest for the hunter;” when