i6 



THE GIT OR TO NATURE 



for his buttonhole as thoughtlessl) as 

 he would hack off the tail of a chip- 

 munk. T'.ut these wild flowers, if you 

 will, they do nol forgel him and his 

 deeper needs. The sure years kindly 

 winnow awa\ much of the boy's ruth- 

 lessness, bu1 as surely and kindly they 

 spare and foster the memory of the fair 

 flowers. This is experience, nol Fancy. 

 Ah! it i^ often well for us that it is not 

 we who decide what shall most inspire 

 us. mold our feeling's and affect us the 

 longest and most deeply. 



Lc us then go to the spring woods. 

 Tf we "have time" so much the better, 

 but the thing is to go. The soft earth 

 heaves with life and exhales sweet wild 

 flower fragrance. Even the veery is at 

 hand, just a little removed, it may be, 

 into the hemlock shade. His voice is 

 better than that of a Stradivarius vio- 

 lin and, like that of any violin, it 

 improves with time. 



Search for the bloodroot and arbutus. 

 Jack-irt-the-pulpit is here, too, and what 

 an array of violets ! Oh ! there are 

 enough kinds of flowers though not one 

 to spare. Skirt the little woodland 

 pools, not forgetting" to gaze into their 

 limpid depths and see the trees and 

 leaves so wonderfully reflected. Here 

 we find dog's tooth violets and liver-leaf. 

 We used to know the latter by the 

 simple name. Mayflower. Years after 

 it was time enough to learn the more 

 accurate term, hepatica. 



Coming out into a glade where ferns 

 and berry bushes run riot, we find, 

 among the graceful young fronds of the 

 former, many a cluster of the large 

 blue violets. Thev seem fond of looking 

 at their lovely color in the great mirror 

 above, for I find them doing best in the 

 open where their view of the sky is un- 

 obstructed. And such a sky as this 

 above the glades in the May woods, 

 smiling so softly, and so deeply, beauti- 

 fully blue! 



Surely it is a pleasure such as heaven 

 may happily share — to hold commun- 

 ion with nature in the month of May 

 and feel through all the being, with 

 budding trees and singing birds, the 

 gentle forces of the spring waking and 

 stirring Unconsciously the calous 



that care has made is softened through. 

 Our minds, our hearts, our souls are 

 wooed and won again to childhood's 

 freedom from all thought and care. 

 Idie flowers and nature take us back to 

 learn again the songs of brooks and 

 birds, to sing with them and to feel 

 that we are kin. 



$£.$&.$£. 



Garden Seeds. 

 I love to hear the bluebells chime, 



And little cowslips moo, 

 Of tiger lilies roaring I'm 



A constant lover, too. 

 But best of all the garden sounds 



To which I love to hark, 

 Is when at eve I go my rounds 



The Johnny-jum-pups bark. 



— Harper's Weekly. 



To the Terrestrial Globe. 

 (By a miserable wretch.) 

 W. S. Gilbert. 



Roll on, thou ball, roll on, 

 Through pathless realms of space 



Roll on! 

 What though I swallow countless pills? 

 What though I cannot meet my bills? 

 What though I suffer toothache's ills? 

 What though I swallow countless pills? 

 Never you mind \ 



Roll on! 



Roll on, thou ball, roll on! 

 Through seas of inky air 



Roll on! 

 It's true I've got no shirts to wear; 

 It's true my butcher's bill is due; 

 It's true my prospects all look blue; 

 But don't let that unsettle you. 

 Never you mind! 



Roil on. 

 (It rolls on.) 



The Wild Columbine. 



By Emma Peirce, New York City. 



Close about my heart you twine, 

 Happy little columbine, 

 As 1 linger with my book, 

 Dreaming in your peaceful nook. 



Trailing brightness on your way, 

 Lighting up the dull rock's gray, 

 You your share of gladness bring 

 To the largess of the Spring. 



Like a sudden ray of hope 

 Gleams your pendant from the slope ; 

 Memory will hold you dear 

 Through the pathway of the year. 



