122 ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 



Such fate to suffering worth is given, 



Who long with wants and woes has striven, 



By human pride or cunning driven 



To misery's brink, 

 Till, wrench'd of every stay but Heaven, 



He, ruined, sink. 



E'en thou who mourn'st the daisy's fate*, 

 That fate is thine, no distant date ; 

 Stern ruin's plowshare drives, elate, 



Full on thy bloom ; 

 Till, crush'd beneath the furrow's weight, 



Shall be thy doom ! 



ROBERT BURNS. 



A WOODLAND HYMN. 



WE seek remembered wood-paths, fragrant with breath of pines, 

 In flecks the sunlight golden through leafy arches shines, 

 The wild birds sweet are calling through all the balmy day, 

 The liquid song of wood-thrush pours forth in joyous lay, 

 The phcebe near the cottage with plaintive call doth sing, 

 From shaded nook the partridge soars aloft on whirring wing. 



Fair are the gentle blossoms, the first sweet gift of Spring, 



Anemones and violets from old-time haunts we bring, 



With round leaf green and glossy, with pure, rich, creamy bloom, 



The Pyrola in beauty distills its rare perfume ; 



Here find we velvet mosses, lichens with ruby cup, 



From out whose dainty chalice, a fairy well might sup. 



O treasures of the woodland ! the lovely maiden-hair, 



Soft ferns with feathery tresses where cooling shadows are ; 



We find 'neath dried leaves hiding the trailing partridge-vine 



Bright mid its green leaves growing the scarlet berries shine; 



The chestnut burs are opening and from their velvet bed 



The brown nuts thickly falling with bright-hued leaves are shed. 



Oh ! wondrous is the glory in Autumn's changing light, 

 Like fairy land the beauty within the woodlands bright, 

 The golden Autumn sunshine, "God's everlasting smile," 

 With pure, sweet radiance lighteth each shadowy forest aisle: 

 A subtle balsam odor breathes through the dreamy air, 

 A charm steals o'er the spirits, a lulling rest from care. 

 Chautauguan, October, 1885. PHEBE A. HOLDER. 



