BIRDS ftND NftTURE. 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. 

 VOL. VIII. DECEMBER, 1900. No. 5 



DECEMBER. 



The lakes of ice gleam bluer than the lakes 

 Of water 'neath the summer sunshine gleamed; 

 Far fairer than when placidly it streamed, 

 The brook its frozen architecture makes, 

 And under bridges white its swift way takes. 

 Snow comes and goes as messenger who dreamed 

 Might linger on the road; or one who deemed 

 His message hostile, gently, for their sakes 

 Who listened, might reveal it by degrees. 

 We gird against the cold of winter wind 

 Our loins now with mighty bands of sleep, 

 In longest, darkest nights take rest and ease, 

 And every shortening day, as shadows creep 

 O'er the brief noontide, fresh surprises find. 



Helen Hunt Jackson 



Best of all, old King December, 

 Laughs beside the burning ember, 

 With his children round his knees, 

 And a look of jovial ease. 

 He is crowned Lord of Misrule- 

 Here's his Queen, and there's his fool. 

 He is wreathed with frosty green, 

 And ever the gay song between 

 "Wassail!" shouts he, "health to all!" 

 And re-echoes the old hall. 



Kind December! 

 Walter Thornbury, "The Twelve Brothers. 



Copyright, 1900, by A. "W. Mumford 



