







SOUTHEY. 
Green moss shines there, with ice eneased ; 
The long grass bends its spear-like form; 
And lovely is the silvery scene 
When faint the sunbeams smile. 
Reflection, too, may love the hour 
When nature, hid in Winter’s grave 
No more expands the bursting bud, 
Or bids the floweret bloom. 
For Nature soon, in Spring’s best charme, 
Shall be revived from Winter’s grave; 
Expand the bursting bud again, 
And bid the flowers re-bloem. 


J 
2 
—__— — .— 3a 

