But thou, unchanged from year to year,
Gayly shalt play and glitter here;
Amid young flowers and tender grass
Thy endless infancy shalt pass;
And, singing down thy narrow glen,

Shalt mock the fading race of men.

MARCH.

THE stormy March is come at last,

With wind, and cloud, and changing skies,

I hear the rushing of the blast,

That through the snowy valley flies.

Ah, passing few are they who speak,
Wild stormy month! in praise of thee;

Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,
Thou art a welcome month to me.

VOL. I.-5

For thou, to northern lands, again

The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.

And, in thy reign of blast and storm,
Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day,
When the changed winds are soft and warm,
And heaven puts on the blue of May.

Then sing aloud the gushing rills :
From winter's durance just set free,
And brightly leaping down the hills,
Begin their journey to the sea.

The year's departing beauty hides
Of wintry storms the sullen threat;

But in thy sternest frown abides

A look of kindly promise yet.

Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies, And that soft time of sunny showers, When the wide bloom, on earth that lies,

Seems of a brighter world than ours.

CONSUMPTION.

Ay, thou art for the grave; thy glances shine Too brightly to shine long; another Spring Shall deck her for men's eyes, but not for thine— Sealed in a sleep which knows no wakening. The fields for thee have no medicinal leaf,

And the vexed ore no mineral of power; And they who love thee wait in anxious grief Till the slow plague shall bring the fatal hour. Glide softly to thy rest then; Death should come, Gently, to one of gentle mould like thee,