I 50 ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 



SPRING POINTING TO GOD. 



Loosed from the bands of frost, the verdant ground 



Again puts on her robe of cheerful green, 

 Again puts forth her flowers ; and all around, 



Smiling, the cheerful face of spring is seen. 



Behold the trees new-deck their withered boughs ; 



Their ample leaves the hospitable plane, 

 The taper elm, and lofty ash disclose; 



The blooming hawthorn variegates the scene. 



The lily of the vale, of flowers the queen, 



Puts on the robe she neither sewed nor spun : 



The birds on ground, or on the branches green, 

 Hop to and fro, and glitter in the sun. 



Soon as o'er eastern hills the morning peers, 



From her low nest the tufted lark up-springs ; 



And cheerful singing, up the air she steers; 



Still high she mounts, still loud and sweet she sings. 



On the green furze, clothed o'er with golden blooms, 



That fill the air with fragrance all around, 

 The linnet sits, and tricks his glossy plumes, 



While o'er the wild his broken notes resound. 



While the sun journeys down the western sky, 



Along the greensward, marked with Roman mound, 



Beneath the blithesome shepherd's watchful eye, 

 The cheerful lambkins dance and frisk around. 



Now is the time for those who wisdom love, 



Who love to walk in virtue's flowery road, 

 Along the lovely paths of spring to rove, 



And follow Nature up to Nature's God. 



BRUCE. 



O, willow, why forever weep, 



As one who mourns an endless wrong? 

 What hidden woe can lie so deep? 



What utter grief can last so long? 

 Mourn on forever, unconsoled, 



And keep your secret, faithful tree ! 

 No heart in all the world can hold 



A sweeter grace than constancy. 



ELIZABETH ALLEN. 



