SONG. A DAY IN THE WOODS. ENEATH the trees which gently stirred The waving leaf, the singing bird, And whispers fairy low, A long, a bright, long summer's day Passed, like the stream beside, Which ran in song and shine away, Though scarcely seen to glide. L. E. I.. SONG. UTUMN winds are sighing, Harvest time is nigh. Cooler breezes, quivering, Through the pine-groves shivering, Sweep the troubled sky. See the fields, how yellow! Gleam on every hill; Crowns the sunny mountains, Runs in every rill. 217 218 A GROVE. Now the lads are springing, Swells the joyful strain : Every field rejoices; Thousand thankful voices Mingle on the plain. Then, when day declineth, Tabors sweetly sound; Fairy feet are bounding O'er the moonlit ground. From the German of Von Salis. A GROVE. 'N a sweet solitude beside the flood Was a green grove of willows, trunk-entwined With ivies climbing to the top, whose hood Of glossy leaves, with all its boughs combined, So interchains and canopies the wood That the hot sunbeams can no access find; The wood, the flowery turf, the winds that wide Retired, and resting from their weary flight. MAY IN THE WOODS. It was the hour when hot the sunbeams dried Earth's spirit up,-'twas noontide, still as night; Alone, at times, as of o'erbrooding bees, Mellifluous murmurs sounded from the trees. From the Spanish. MAY IN THE WOODS. PAY, sweet May again is come, May that frees the land from gloom : All her stores of jollity! On the laughing hedgerow's side She hath spread her treasures wide; She is in the greenwood shade, Where the nightingale hath made Every branch and every tree Ring with her sweet melody; Hill and dale are May's own treasures. Sing ye! join the chorus gay! Up, then, children! we will go In a joyful company We the bursting flowers will see : Up! your festal dress prepare! 219 220 NIGHT IN THE WOODS. May hath pleasures most inviting, Listen to the birds' sweet song, Hark! how soft it floats along! Courtly dames our pleasures share; CONRAD VON KIRCHBERG. NIGHT IN THE WOODS. OW great Hyperion left his golden throne, And thence apace the gentle Twilight fled, All-drowsy Night; who in a car of jet By steeds of iron-gray is drawn through the sky: |