Ан, how wonderful is the advent of Spring!-the great annual miracle of the blossoming of Aaron's rod, repeated on myriads and myriads of branches!-the gentle progression and growth of herbs, flowers, trees-gentle, and yet irrepressible-which no force can stay, no violence restrain, like love, that wins its way and cannot be withstood by any human power, because itself is divine power. If Spring came but once in a century, instead of once a year, or burst forth with the sound of an earthquake, and not in silence, what wonder and expectation would there be in all hearts to behold the miraculous change! THE STORM. That bolt, that voice, from heaven to heaven, Wilt keep them from Thy suppliant's head. To sun and shade, to calm and shower, When ocean wears its halcyon hue, Or when those waves, convulsed and high, When masts are bowed, and sails are rent; Our hope, our comfort, staff and rod, 55 EARLY SPRING. WINTER is past-the little bee resumes Her share of sun and shade, and o'er the lea Hums her first hymnings to the flowers' perfumes, And wakes a sense of gratefulness in me : The little daisy keeps its wonted place, Ere March by April gets disarmed of snow; A look of joy opes on its smiling face, Turned to that Power that suffers it to blow. Ah, pleasant time! yet, pleasing as you be, Where suns, unsetting, one long Summer shine, Flowers endless bloom, where Winter ne'er destroys: O may the good man's righteous end be mine, That I may witness these unfading joys! RETURN OF 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. RETURN OF MARCH. Ah! passing few are those who speak, Wild, stormy month, in praise of thee! Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me. For thou to northern lands again The glad and glorious sun dost bring; 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, And the full springs from frost set free, That, brightly leaping down the hills, 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, When the wide bloom on earth that lies, I 57 |