Lower sink the snow-drifts daily, Half the pasture lands are bare; And the little streams leap gayly From their chains to breathe the air.

While the barren earth rejoices, Care-worn mortal, come away,-- Listen to the pleasant voices Of the resurrection day.

Dost thou understand the token?

Nature should not teach in vain What its gracious Lord hath spoken-- _That the dead shall live again!_

THE BIRD'S NEST.

Two robins came in early Spring,-- When Winter's reign was o'er; And every morn I heard them sing Just by our cottage door.

They built their nest of moss and hay Within a maple-tree,-- And thither every pleasant day, I went to hear and see.

At first whene'er I came they flew, Or eyed me in alarm; But soon my step familiar grew, I never did them harm.

One day a louder song I heard, With eager cries for food; And then I helped the mother-bird To still her hungry brood.

I always seemed a welcome guest; Both old and young I fed, Then settling down beneath the nest, Some pleasant book I read.

I watched them fondly day by day, Until their wings were grown; When suddenly they flew away, And left me all alone.

The bitter tears began to start, And full of sad regret I wondered in my simple heart, If birds could thus forget!

Ah! many summers have returned, And many changes wrought, Since I the mournful lesson learned, In early childhood taught.

And many hopes have taken wings On which my heart was set,-- And I have found that _many things As well as birds forget!_

GATHER VIOLETS.

Gather violets white and blue, Where the southern zephyrs play; Bring them sparkling with the dew,-- With the blessed dew of May.

Let me fold them to my breast, Emblems sweet of earthly bliss; Ha! they love to be caressed, For they give me kiss for kiss.

How my weary heart doth yearn, Touched as by a hand Divine, While their soft blue eyes they turn Full of sympathy to mine!

Do they know how much I sigh For the meadows where they grew?

For the forest and the sky, Where they caught their azure hue?

There is One who knows it all,-- To his loving arms I flee: Oh, he hears my feeblest call, And I know he pities me.

He ere long will take my hand Saying tenderly, "Arise!"

He will lead me to the land Where no blossom ever dies.

TO A DANDELION.

Blessings on thy sunny face, In my heart thou hast a place, Humble Dandelion!

Forms more lovely are around thee, Purple violets surround thee,-- But I know thy honest heart Never felt a moment's smart At another's good or beauty,-- Ever at thy post of duty, Smiling on the great and small, Rich and poor, and wis.h.i.+ng all Health, and happiness, and pleasure, Oh, thou art a golden treasure!

I remember years ago, How I longed to see thee blow, Humble Dandelion!

Through the meadows I would wander, O'er the verdant pastures yonder, Filling hands and filling lap, Till the teacher's rap, rap, rap, Sounding on the window sash Dreadful as a thunder crash, Galled me from my world ideal To a world how sad and real,-- From a laughing sky and brook To a dull old spelling-book; Then with treasures hid securely, To my seat I crept demurely.

Childhood's careless days are o'er, Happy school days come no more, Humble Dandelion!

Through a desert I am walking, Hope eluding, pleasure mocking, Every earthly fountain dry, Yet when thou didst meet mine eye, Something like a beam of gladness Did illuminate my sadness, And I hail thee as a friend Come a holiday to spend By the couch of pain and anguish.

Where I suffer, moan and languish.

When at length I sink to rest, And the turf is on my breast, Humble Dandelion!

Wilt thou when the morning breaketh, And the balmy spring awaketh, Bud and blossom at a breath From the icy arms of death, Wilt thou smile upon my tomb?

Drawing beauty from the gloom, Making life less dark and weary, Making death itself less dreary, Whispering in a gentle tone To the mourner sad and lone, Of a spring-time when the sleeper Will arise to bless the weeper?

My Father made this beautiful world and gave me a heart to love his works. Oh, may I love Him better than all created things!

The little plat of ground around our house is a great field of instruction and amus.e.m.e.nt to me. How little do I comprehend of all contained within it! I am glad I was not born in some great city-- where Nature had not been so kind and dear a friend.

TO A ROBIN.

Robin Red-breast on the tree, Do you sing that song for me?

"You are listening it is true, But I do not sing for you.

Higher yet on tiptoe rise, Don't you see a pair of eyes Peeping through the pleasant shade Which the summer leaves have made?

There they watch me all day long, Brightening at my cheerful song, Turning wheresoe'er I go For the evening meal below.

Dearest mate that ever blest Happy lover--peaceful nest,-- Guarding well our eggs of blue, All my songs I sing for you!"

G.o.d IS THERE.

When the howling winds are high, And the vivid lightnings fly Through the air;-- When the deafening thunders roll, Peace to thee, O troubled soul-- G.o.d is there!

When the dreary storm is past, And the promised bow at last-- Bright and fair-- In the cloudy sky appears, Smiling still through Nature's tears G.o.d is there!