XCIX. APRIL. FAIR midspring, besung so oft and oft, How can I praise thy loveliness enow? When Summer brings the lily and the rose, When in the earth the hopeful seed they lay. Ah! life of all the year, why yet do I WILLIAM MORRIS. B SPRING IS COMING. Y the bursting of the leaves, By the flowers that scent the air, By the skies more blue and fair, All the woods and fields rejoice: Only here and there a voice- Won a new wild bitterness; Spring is coming. F. W. BOURDILLON. A SPRING EVENING. CROSS the glory of the evening skies A veil is drawn of shadowed mists, that rise So after farewell said, fond memories F. W. BOURDILLON. IN SPRING. WEET primrose-time! when thou art here. Of long lane-side, and pasture-mead, And all about her army gay The primrose weather musters, And golden-headed children go Ah! play your play, sweet little ones, Nor ask an equal mirth from hearts Which, e'en with you, are lonely. |