94 
ARBOR DA V MANUAL. 
Yet still that life awakens, brings again 
Its airy anthems, resonant and long, 
Till Earth and Sky, transfigured, fill my brain 
With rhythmic sweeps of song. 
Thence am I made a poet: thence are sprung 
Those motions of the soul, that sometimes reach 
Beyond the grasp of Art,—for which the tongue 
Is ignorant of speech. 
And if some wild, full-gathered harmony 
Roll its unbroken music through my line, 
There lives and murmurs, faintly though it be, 
The Spirit of the Pine. 
Bayard Tay.lor. 
MONTH OF MAY. 
H ERE I am, and how do you do? 
I’ve come afar to visit you. 
Little children, glad and free, , 
Are you ready now for me ?— 
I’m the month of May ! 
I’ve a store of treasures rare 
Laid away with greatest care— 
Days of sunshine, song and flowers, 
Earth made into fairy bowers ! 
I’m the month of May ! 
In mj'- loaded trunk I bring 
Bees to buzz and birds to sing i 
Flowers to fill the balmy air, 
Violets are hiding there !— 
I’m the month of May 1 
Youth's Companion. 
THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL. 
T HE mountain and the squirrel 
Had a little quarrel; 
And the former called the latter “ Little 
Prig.” 
Bun replied : 
“You are doubtless very big; 
But all sorts of things and weather 
Must be taken in together, 
To make up a year, 
And a sphere. 
And I think it no disgrace 
To occupy my place. 
You are not as small as I. 
And not half so spry. 
I'll not deny 
You make a very pretty squirrel trap. 
Talents differ; all is well and wisely 
put; 
If I cannot carry forests on my back, 
Neither can you crack a nut.” 
Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
