ARBOR DA V MANUAL. \ 69 



THE SEASONS. 



mTHE Spring! the beautiful Spring! 

 With its buds and blossoms and flowers, 

 With bluebirds and robins that sing their sweet songs, 

 And the soft, mild, April showers. 



I like best the Summer, the long June days, 



To sit in the deep cool shade, 

 To see the grain ripening, the flowers turn to fruit. 



On each hillside, valley and glade. 



Girls always rave of flowers and bowers, 



And of the beauties of Spring, 

 But give me the Autumn, the glorious fall, 



And all the pleasures it brings ; 

 With corn-stalk fiddles, fruits and nuts, 

 And a hunt in the woods, sere and brown ; 



With pumpkins for jack-lights, 



To frighten on dark nights, 

 And shaking the ripe apples down. 



No Spring, no Summer, no Autumn for me, 



But Winter, the grandest of all, 

 When Jack-frost and Santa Claus travel around, 



And kindly gives each a call. 

 Coasting and skating in the keen, cold air, 

 Is the very best think to banish care. 



Spring and Summer, Winter and Fall, 

 The best of the seasons is, them all. 

 We would tire of Spring, if no Summer came. 

 We would tire of Summer if it came to remain. 

 We would tire of Autumn if it came to stay. 

 We would tire of Winter e'er it passed away. 

 The year is complete, God made it so, 

 With bud and blossom, fruit and snow. 



KATIE DOUGLAS WALSTER. 



OUR DUTY HERE. 



WHAT is our duty here? To tend And so to live, that, when the sun 



From good to better, thence to best; Of our existence sinks in night, 



Grateful to drink life's cup, then bend Memorials sweet of mercies done 



Unmurmuring to our bed of rest; May shrine our names in memory's light; 



To pluck the flowers that round us blow, And the blest seeds we scattered bloom 



Scattering our fragrance as we go. A hundred-fold in days to come. 



SIR J. BOWRING. 



