And where the land she travels from? Away, Far, far behind, is all that they can say.

--ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.

UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE

Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat-- Come hither, come hither, come hither!

Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he gets-- Come hither, come hither, come hither!

Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

--WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

TO DAFFODILS

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon: As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon.

Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or anything.

We die, As your hours do, and dry Away Like to the Summer's rain; Or as the pearls of Morning's dew Ne'er to be found again.

--ROBERT HERRICK.

AUTUMN

The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying; And the year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying.

Come, Months, come away, From November to May, In your saddest array,-- Follow the bier Of the dead cold year, And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.

The chill rain is falling, the nipt worm is crawling, The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling, For the year; The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone To his dwelling.

Come, Months, come away; Put on white, black, and gray; Let your light sisters play; Ye, follow the bier Of the dead cold year, And make her grave green with tear on tear.

--PERCY BYSSHE Sh.e.l.lEY.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW

From Oberon, in fairy land, The king of ghosts and shadows there, Mad Robin I, at his command, Am sent to view the night-sports here.

What revel rout Is kept about, In every corner where I go, I will o'ersee, And merry be, And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho!

More swift than lightning can I fly About this airy welkin soon, And, in a minute's s.p.a.ce, descry Each thing that's done below the moon.

There's not a hag Or ghost shall wag, Or cry 'ware goblins, where I go; But, Robin, I Their feast will spy, And send them home with ho, ho, ho!

Whene'er such wanderers I meet, As from their night-sports they trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greet, And call them on with me to roam; Through woods, through lakes, Through bogs, through brakes, Or else, unseen, with them I go, All in the nick To play some trick, And frolic it, with ho, ho, ho!

Sometimes I meet them like a man, Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound; And to a horse I turn me can, To trip and trot about them round.

But if to ride, My back they stride, More swift than wind away I go, O'er hedge and lands.

Through pools and ponds, I hurry, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

By wells and rills, in meadows green, We nightly dance our heyday guise; And to our fairy King and Queen, We chant our moonlight minstrelsies.

When larks 'gin sing, Away we fling; And babes new born steal as we go; And elf in bed, We leave instead, And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho!

From hag-bred Merlin's time have I Thus nightly revell'd to and fro; And for my pranks men call me by The name of Robin Good-fellow.

Fiends, ghosts, and sprites, Who haunt the nights, The hags and goblins do me know; And beldames old So _vale_, _vale_! ho, ho, ho!

--UNKNOWN.

BOOT AND SADDLE

Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

Rescue my castle before the hot day Brightens to blue from its silvery gray, Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; Many's the friend there, will listen and pray "G.o.d's luck to gallants that strike up the lay-- Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay, Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array, Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay, Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest, and gay, Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!

I've better counsellors; what counsel they?

Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

--ROBERT BROWNING.

PSALM XIX

The heavens declare the glory of G.o.d; And the firmament showeth his handiwork.

Day unto day uttereth speech, And night unto night sheweth knowledge.

There is no speech nor language, Where their voice is not heard.

Their line is gone out through all the earth, And their words to the end of the world.

In them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun, Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, And rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race.

His going forth is from the end of the heaven, And his circuit unto the ends of it: And there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.

The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul: The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple.

The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart: The commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes.

The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring forever: The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.

More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold: Sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.

Moreover by them is thy servant warned: And in keeping of them there is great reward.

Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults.

Keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me: Then shall I be upright, And I shall be innocent from the great transgression.

Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer.

--KING DAVID.

SIXTH YEAR

THE NORTHERN STAR