Now take a crumb or two, And the roaring northern blast Thy old familiar song, As the seasons roll along, Oh, thou❜lt be surpassing sweet, At the breaking of the dawn, However sweetly he may sing, Can sing as thou singest, singest As the seasons roll along, Robin, Robin! Henry Stevenson Washburn. From "The Vacant Chair and Other Poems." THE ENGLISH ROBIN. SEE yon robin on the spray; Look ye how his tiny form. Gushes forth amid the storm. Though the snow is falling fast, And the evening's lost in night, Yet from out the darkness dreary Is that little warbling throat. Thank him for his lesson's sake, Thank God's gentle minstrel there, Harrison Weir. THE BLUEBIRD. WHEN winter's cold tempests and snows are no more, WH Green meadows and brown furrow'd fields re-ap pearing, The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore, And cloud-clearing geese to the lakes are a-steering; Then loud piping frogs make the marshes to ring; O then to your gardens ye housewives repair, Your walks border up, sow and plant at your leisure; He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree, And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their bosoms; He drags the vile grub from the corn it devours, The worm from the webs, where they riot and welter; And all that he asks is in summer a shelter. The plowman is pleased when he gleans in his train, When all the gay scenes of the summer are o'er, APRIL, EVER FRAIL AND FAIR. T last young April, ever frail and fair, AT Wooed by her playmate with the golden hair, Chased to the margin of receding floods O'er the soft meadows starred with opening buds, And hides her cheek beneath the flowers of May. PRING! the beautiful Spring is coming, SPRING! the beautiful this coes abe humming, And the fields are rich with the early flowers, And, under the nodding hedgerow, showers Come, come, let you and me Go out, and the promise of Springtime see, For many a pleasant nook I know, Where the hooded arum and bluebell grow, And crowds of violets white as snow ; Come, come, let's go! Let's go, for hark! I hear the lark; And the blackbird and the thrush on the hill-side tree Shout to each other so merrily; And the wren sings loud, And a little crowd Of gnats dance cheerily. Come, come! come along with me, For the tassels are red on the tall larch tree, And in homesteads hilly, The spathed daffodilly Is growing in beauty for me and thee. APRIL APRIL. PRIL cold with dropping rain The whistle of returning birds IN APRIL. PRIL is here! AP Listen, a bluebird is caroling near! Low and sweet is the song he sings, As he sits in the sunshine with folded wings, That has looked up into her face and smiled. |