Oft on the dappled turf at ease

Laud the first Spring daisies ; I sit, and play with similes

Chaunt aloud their praises; Loose types of things through all degrees, Send the children up Thoughts of thy raising;

To the high hill's top; And many a fond and idle name

Tax not the strength of their young hands I give to thee, for praise or blame, To increase your lands. As is the humor of the game,

Gather the primroses, While I am gazing.

Make handfuls into posies;

Take them to the little girls who are at work A nun demure, of lowly port;

in mills : Or sprightly maiden of Love's court,

Pluck the violets blue, In thy simplicity the sport

Ah, pluck not a few ! Of all temptations ;

Knowest thou what good thoughts from HeaA queen in crown of rubies drest;

ven the violet instils ? A starveling in a scanty vest; Are all, as seems to suit thee best,

Give the children holidays, Thy appellations.

(And let these be jolly days,

good.

Grant freedom to the children in this joyous Are ready to be woven into garlands for the

Spring;
Better men, hereafter,

Or, upon summer earth,
Shall we have, for laughter

To die, in virgin worth;
Freely shouted to the woods, till all the Or to be strewn before the bride,
echoes ring.

And the bridegroom, by her side.
Send the children up
To the high hill's top,

Come forth on Sundays;
Or deep into the wood's recesses,

Come forth on Mondays; To woo Spring's caresses.

Come forth on any day;

Children, come forth to play :See, the birds together,

Worship the God of Nature in your child

hood; In this splendid weather, Worship God—(for he is God of birds as Worship Him at your tasks with best enwell as men):

deavor; And each feathered neighbor

Worship Him in your sports; worship llinn Enters on his labor,

ever ; Sparrow, robin, redpole, finch, the linnet, Worship Him in the wildwood; and the wren.

Worship Him amidst the flowers; As the year advances,

In the greenwood bowers; Trees their naked branches

Pluck the buttercups, and raise Clothe, and seek your pleasure in their

Your voices in His praise ! green

EDWARD YOUL. apparel. Insect and wild beast Keep no Lent, but feast; Spring breathes upon the earth, and their joy 's increased,

THE BROOM-FLOWER. And the rejoicing birds break forth in one loud carol.

O TIE Broom, the yellow Broom,

The ancient poet sung it, Ah, come and woo the Spring;

And dear it is on summer days
List to the birds that sing;

To lie at rest among it.
Pluck the primroses; pluck the violets;
Pluck the daisies,

I know the realms where people say
Sing their praises;

The flowers have not their fellow; Friendship with the flowers some noble

I know where they shine out like suns, thought begets.

The crimson and the yellow. Come forth and gather these sweet elves, (More witching are they than the fays of I know where ladies live enchained old,)

In luxury's silken fetters, Come forth and gather them yourselves; And flowers as bright as glittering gems Learn of these gentle flowers whose worth

Are used for written letters. is more than gold.

But ne'er was flower so fair as this, Come, come into the wood;

In modern days or olden ; Pierce into the bowers

It groweth on its nodding stein
Of these gentle flowers,

Like to a garland golden.
Which, not in solitude
Dwell, but with each other keep society: And all about my mother's door
And with a simple piety,

Shine out its glittering bushes,

'Tis the Spring's largess, which she scatters now THE BRIER.

To rich and poor alike, with lavish hand;

Though most hearts never understand
My brier that smelledst sweet,

To take it at God's value, but pass by
When gentle Spring's first heat

The offered wealth with unrewarded eye.
Ran through thy quiet veins;
Thou that couldst injure none,

Thou art my tropics and mine Italy;
But wouldst be left alone,

To look at thee unlocks a warmer clime; Alone thou leavest me, and nought of thine

The eyes thou givest me remains.

Are in the heart, and heed not space or time:

Not in mid June the golden-cuirassed bee What! hath no poet's lyre

Feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment
O'er thee, sweet-breathing brier,

In the white lily's breezy tent,
Hung fondly, ill or well ?

His conquered Sybaris, than when first
And yet, methinks, with thee

From the dark green thy yellow circles A poet's sympathy,

burst. Whether in weal or woe, in life or death,

Then think I of deep shadows on the grass; might dwell.

Of meadows where in sun the cattle graze,

Where, as the breezes pass,
Hard usage both must bear,

The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways;
Few hands your youth will rear, Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass,
Few bosoms cherish you;

Or whiten in the wind; of waters blue,
Your tender prime must bleed

That from the distance sparkle through
Ere you are sweet; but, freed

Some woodland gap; and of a sky above, From life, you then are prized; thus prized

Where one white cloud like a stray lamb are poets too.

doth move. WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.

My childhood's earliest thoughts are linked

with thee;

The sight of thee calls back the robin's song, TO THE DANDELION.

Who, from the dark old tree

Beside the door, sang clearly all day iong; Dear common flower, that grow'st beside

And I, secure in childish piety,

Listened as if I heard an angel sing Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold !

With news from heaven, which he did First pledge of blithesome May,

bring Which children pluck, and, full of pride, up Fresh every day to my untainted ears, hold

When birds and flowers and I were happy High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that

peers. they An Eldorado in the grass have found,

How like a prodigal doth nature seem, Which not the rich earth's ample round When thou, for all thy gold, so common art! May match in wealth!-thou art more dear Thou teachest me to deem to me

More sacredly of every human heart, Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be. Since each reflects in joy its scanty gleam

Of heaven, and could some wondrous secret Gold such as thine ne'er drew the Spanish

show, prow

Did we but pay the love we owe, Through the primeval hush of Indian seas; And with a child's undoubting wisdom look Nor wrinkled the lean brow

On all these living pages of God's book. of age, to rob the lover's heart of ease.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

the way,