DECEMBER.

ANNOUNCED by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

R. W. Emerson.

Why not take life with cheerful trust,
With faith in the strength of weakness.
The slenderest daisy rears its head
With courage and with meekness.
A sunny face,

Hath holy grace,

To woo the sun for ever.

Mrs. M. M. Dodge.

December 2.

Her winning smile and her gleeful glance
Like a beam of sunshine fell;
Making the saddest heart rejoice,
Like some sweet bewitching spell.

And her gifted mind shone brightly out
In her fair and youthful face,

And the charm of a kind and a gentle heart
Shed around her a lovely grace.

December 3.

C. F. Orne.

When life, once past its fortieth year
Wheels up its evening hemisphere,
The mind's own shadow, which the boy
Saw onward point to hope and joy,
Shifts round, irrevocably set

Toward morning's loss and vain regret,
And, argue with it as we will,
The clock is unconverted still.

J. R. Lowell.