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(ome, Aurelia, cone and see
What a lodge I've dressed for thee ;
But the seat you cannot see,
"T is so hid with jessamy,
With the vine that o'er the walls,
And in every window crawls ;
Let us there be blithe and gay !
Come, Aurelia, come away.

Fairer and brighter spreads the reign of May;

The tresses of the woods
With the light dallying of the west-wind play;

And the full-brimming flools,
As gladly to their goal they run,
Hail the returning sun.

JAMES GATES PERCIVAL

Come with all thy sweetest wiles,
With thy graces and thy smiles ;

THEY COME! THE MERRY SCIER
Come, and we will merry be,

MONTHS.
Who shall be so blest as we?
We will frolic all the day,

They come! the merry summer months of
Haste, Aurelia, while we may :

beauty, song, and flowers ; Ay! and should not life be gay?

They come! the gladsome months that bring

thick leafiness to bowers. Yes, Aurelia, come away.

JOHN DYER. Up, up, my heart ! and walk abroad ; fling cark

and care aside ; Seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful

waters glide ; MAY MORNING.

Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal

tree, Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her

tranquillity.
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May! that doth inspire

The grass is soft, its velvet touch is grateful to

the hand; Mirth and youth and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing,

And, like the kiss of maiden love, the breeze is

sweet and bland ; Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song,

The daisy and the buttercup are nodding cour.

teously ; And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

It stirs their blood with kindest lore, to bless

and welcome thee ; And mark how with thine own thin locks

they now are silvery grayMAY.

That blissful breeze is wantoning, and whisper

ing, “ Be gay!" I FEEL a newer life in every gale ; The winds that fan the flowers,

There is no cloud that sails along the ocean of And with their welcome breathings fill the sail,

yon sky Tell of serener hours, Of hours that glide unfelt away

But hath its own winged mariners to give it

melody; Beneath the sky of May.

Thou seest their glittering fans outspread, all

gleaming like red gold ; The spirit of the gentle south-wind calls And hark ! with shrill pipe musical, their merry From his blue throne of air,

course they hold. And where his whispering voice in music falls, God bless them all, those little ones, who, far Beauty is budding there ;

above this earth, The bright ones of the valley break Can make a scotf of its mean joys, and vent a Their slumbers, and awake.

nobler mirth.

MILTON.

The waving verdure rolls along the plain,

And the wide forest weaves,
To welcome back its playful mates again,

A canopy of leaves ;
And from its darkening shadow floats
A gush of trenabling notes.

But soft ! mine ear upcaught a sound, - from

yonder wood it came ! The spirit of the dim green glade did breathe his

own glad name; Yes, it is he! the hermit bird, that, apart from

all his kind,

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