BIRDS AND ALL NATURE 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. 



Vol. VII. 



JANUARY, 1900. 



No. I 



JANUARY. 



Then came old January, wrapped well 

 In many weeds to keep the cold away; 

 Yet did he quake and quiver like to 



quell, 

 And blow his nayles' to warm^ them if 



he may; 

 For they were numb'd with holding all 



the day 

 An hatchet keene,with which he felled 



wood, 

 And from the trees did lop the need- 



lesse spray; 

 Upon a huge great earth-pot steane he 



stood. 

 From whose wide mouth there flowed 



forth the Romane flood. 



— Spenser. 



Announced by all the trumpets of the 

 sky, 



Arrives the snow; and, driving o'er 

 the fields. 



Seems nowhere to alight; the whited 

 air 



Hides hills and woods, the river, and 

 the heaven. 



And veils the farm-house at the gar- 

 den's end. 



The sled and traveler stopp'd, the 

 courier's feet 



Delay'd, all friends shut out, the house- 

 mates sit 



Around the radiant fire-place, inclosed 



In a tumultuous privacy of storm 



— Emerson. 



OLD YEAR AND YOUNG YEAR. 



Said the year that was old: 



" I am cold, I am cold, 



And my breath hurries fast 



On the wild winter blast 



Of this thankless December; 



Ah, who will remember 



As I, shivering, go, 



The warmth and the glow 



That arose like a flame 



When I came, when I came? 



For I brought in my hands. 



From Utopian lands, 



Golden gifts, and the schemes 



That were fairer than dreams. 



Ah, never a king 



Of a twelvemonth, will bring 



Such a splendor of treasure 



Without stint or measure, 



As I brought on that day. 



Triumphant and gay. 



But, alas, and alas. 



Who will think as I pass, 

 I was once gay and bold?" 

 Said the year that was old. 



II. 



Said the year that was young — 



And his light laughter rung — 



" Come, bid me good cheer, 



For I bring with me here 



Such gifts as the earth 



Never saw till my birth; 



All the largess of life, 



Right royally rife 



With the plans and the schemes 



Of the world's highest dreams. 



Then— hope's chalice filled up 



To the brim of the cup. 



Let us drink to the past, 



The poor pitiful past," 



Sang the year that was young, 



While his light laughter rung. 



— Nora Perry. 



