WILD-FL O IV ER SONNE TS. 



WITCH-HAZEL. 

 (HAMA.MELIS.) 



\X7HAT time the dainty darlings of the Spring, 



Summer's ripe beauties, Autumn's brilliant 



train, 



In swift procession trooped o'er hill and plain, 

 Through vale and grove, while every bird did sing 

 His fitting song, we took no note of thee, 

 O arch-enchantress of stream-haunted woods, 

 Waving aloft thy flowerless magic rods, 

 And whisp'ring to the winds their mystery. 

 But when the merry carnival is o'er, 

 The banners furled, the gay robes laid away, 

 Thou shinest forth in marvellous array, 

 Charming our thoughts from all that passed before. 

 Is it to witch old Winter with thy wiles, 

 This burst of golden hair and sun-bright smiles ? 

 NOVEMBER. 



