Saw the windy moors rejoicing in their tapestry of fern,

And the stately weeds and rushes, that to dusty dryness turn.

Autumn walked in glee and triumph, over mountain, wood, and plain,

And he look'd upon their richness as a king on his domain;

All too soon he waned and vanish'd over misty heaths and meres,

And the New Year stood beside me like a man of fifty years.

IV.

In the foggy cloud obscurely, entered Winter, ashy pale,

And his step was hard and heavy, and he wore an icy mail;

Blasting all the path before him, leapt a black wind from the north,

And from stinging drifts of sleet he forged the arrows of his wrath.

Yet some beauty still was found, for when the fogs had pass'd away,

The wide lands came glittering forward in a fresh and strange array;

Naked trees had got snow foliage, soft, and feathery, and bright,

And the earth look'd dress'd for heaven in its spiritual white.

Black and cold as iron armor lay the frozen lakes and streams,

Round about the fenny plashes shone the long and pointed gleams

Of the tall reeds, ice encrusted; the old hollies, jewel spread,

Warm'd the white marmoreal chillness with an ardency of red.

Upon desolate morasses stood the heron like a ghost,

Beneath the gliding shadows of the wild fowl's noisy host;

And the bittern clamor'd harshly from his nest among the sedge,

Where the indistinct dull moss had blurred the rugged water's edge.

But the face of Winter soften'd, and his lips broke into smiles,

And his heart was fill'd with radiance as from far enchanted isles;

For across the long horizon came a light upon

the way

The light of Christmas fires, and the dawning of new day.

And Winter moved not onward like the rest, but made a stand,

And he took the Spirit of Christmas, as a brother, by the hand;

And together tow'rd the heavens a great cry of joy they sent

And the New Year was the Old Year, and his head was grey and bent.

Then another New Year enter'd, like another dancing child,

With his tresses as a glory, and his glances bright and wild;

And he flash'd his odorous torch, and he laugh'd out in the place,

And his soul looked forth in joy, and made a sunshine on his face.

Out from spire, and from turret, peal'd the sudden New Year bells,

Like the distant songs of angels in their fields of asphodels;

And that lustrous child went sparkling to his aged father's side,

And the New Year kissed the Old Year, and the Old Year gently died.

SPRING BIRDS.

3. B. Wiffen.

HARK to the merry gossip of the spring-
The sweet mysterious voice which peoples place
With an Italian beauty, and does bring
As 'twere Elysium from the wilds of space.
Where'er her wing inhabits, give it chase;
In other bowers the fairy shouts again;
Where'er we run it mocks our rapid race-
Still the same loose note in a golden chain,
Rings through the vocal woods and fills with
joy the plain.

Hail to the shouting cuckoo! In my youth
Thou wert long time the Ariel of my hope,
The marvel of a summer! It did soothe,
To listen to thee on some sunny slope,
Where the high oaks forbade an ample scope,
Than of the blue skies upward-and to sit
Canopied in the gladdening horoscope
Which thou my planet flung-a pleasant fit,
Long time my hours endeared, my kindling
fancy smit.

And thus I love thee still-thy monotoneThe self-same transport flashes through my frame;

And when thy voice, sweet sybil, all is flown
My eager ear, I cannot choose but blame.
Oh! may the world these feelings never tame!
If age o'er me her silvery tresses spread;
It still would call thee by a lover's name,
And deem the spirit of delight unfled,

Nor hear, though grey, without a heart to nature dead.

THE PRIMROSE.

S. Clare.

WELCOME, pale primrose, starting up between Dead matted leaves of ash and oak, which strew

The every lawn and wood and spinney thro',
'Mid creeping moss and ivy's darker green.
How much thy presence beautifies the ground,
How sweet thy modest unaffected pride

Glows on the sunny bank and wood's warm side; And where thy fairy flowers in groups are found,

The school boy roams enchantedly along, Plucking the fairest with a rude delight; While the meek shepherd stops his simple song, To gaze a moment on the pleasing sight; O'erjoyed to see the flowers that truly bring, The welcome news of sweet returning spring.