SPRING. 73 



The aged man is in the field ; 



The maiden 'mong her garden flowers ; 

 The sons of sorrow and distfess 

 Are wandering in fbrgetfulness 



Of wants that fret and care that lours. 



She comes with more than present good 



With joys to store for future years, 

 From which in striving crowds apart, 

 The bow'd in spirit, bruised in heart, 



May glean up hope with grateful tears. 



Up ! let us to the fields away, 



And breathe the fresh and balmy air : 

 The bird is building in the tree, 

 The flower has open'd to the bee, 



And health, and love, and peace are there ! 



