ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 149 



AN APRIL DAY. 



WHEN the warm sun that brings 

 Seed time and harvest, has returned again, 

 Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs 

 The first flower of the plain. 



I love the season well, 



When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, 

 Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell 



The coming-on of storms. 



From the earth's loosening mould 



The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives; 



Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold, 

 The drooping tree revives. 



The softly warbled song 



Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings 

 Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along 



The forest openings. 



AVhen the bright sunset fills 



The silver woods with light, the green slope throws 

 Its shadows in the hollows of the hills, 



And wide the upland grows. 



And when the eve is born, 



In the blue lake the sky, o'er reaching far, 

 Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn, 



And twinkles many a star. 



Inverted in the tide 



Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw, 

 And the fair trees look over, side by side, 



And see themselves below. 



Sweet April ! many a thought 



Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; 

 Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought, 



Life's golden fruit is shed. 



LONGFELLOW. 



One impulse from a vernal wood, 



May teach you more of man, 

 Of moral evil and of good, 



Than all the sages can. WORDSWORTH. 



