Poetry: Spring

The sun is climbing to the Nortb, With genial warmtfa he darts hts rayB, The budding trees are Bhooting forth, And nature seniles with sunny days. The farmer to his fields has C[one, Our shipa have left iheir icy bed ; The JBoattnan winda his merry horn, And churly sings, old vrinter's fled. The Robín on the loftiest bough, Tunes his shrill notes at early dawn, There seeks his food behind tbe plough, And hops delighted o'er the lawn. The chipping squirrel hath appeared, And chippers merry in the wood, .The coon his hollow tree hath cleared To range the forest's solitude. 'Tis changed, the frosts have all gone by, Her snowy coat the earth has cast, The groves are filled with melody, And youthful spring hath. come at last. And now ehe robes her vast dornain, With manilo green and lovely flowers, Herzephyrs too have come again, To play amongthe shady bowera. 'Tis folly, then, to be cast down In Spring, when all things are so gay ; Grasp not for pleasures that have flown But cast with her, your cares away.