(And let these be jolly days,)

Come forth on any day;

Children, come forth to play :

spring;

Better men, hereafter,

Worship him at your tasks with best endeavor; Worship him in your sports; worship him ever;

SPRING.

BEHOLD the young, the rosy Spring
Gives to the breeze her scented wing,
While virgin graces, warm with May,
Fling roses o'er her dewy way.
The murmuring billows of the deep
Have languished into silent sleep;
And mark the flitting sea-birds lave
Their plumes in the reflecting wave;
While cranes from hoary winter fly
To flutter in a kinder sky.
Now the genial star of day
Dissolves the murky clouds away,
And cultured field and winding stream
Are freshly glittering in his beam.

Now the earth prolific swells
With leafy buds and flowery bells;
Gemming shoots the olive twine;
Clusters bright festoon the vine;
All along the branches creeping,
Through the velvet foliage peeping,
Little infant fruits we see
Nursing into luxury.

ANACREON (Greek). Translation
of THOMAS MOORE.

SPRING, THE SWEET SPRING.

SPRING, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king;

Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Spring! the sweet spring!

T. NASH.

Found, it seems, the halcyon morn
To hoar February born;
Bending from heaven, in azure mirth,
It kissed the forehead of the earth,
And smiled upon the silent sea,
And bade the frozen streams be free,
And waked to music all their fountains,
And breathed upon the frozen mountains,
And like a prophetess of May
Strewed flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.

Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs,
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul need not repress
Its music, lest it should not find
An echo in another's mind,
While the touch of nature's art
Harmonizes heart to heart.

Radiant Sister of the Day,

Awake! arise! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
To the pools where winter rains
Image all their roof of leaves,
Where the pine its garland weaves
Of sapless green, and ivy dun,
Round stems that never kiss the sun,
Where the lawns and pastures be
And the sand-hills of the sea,
Where the melting hoar-frost wets
The daisy-star that never sets,
And wind-flowers and violets
Which yet join not scent to hue
Crown the pale year weak and new;
When the night is left behind
In the deep east, dim and blind,
And the blue noon is over us,
And the multitudinous
Billows murmur at our feet,
Where the earth and ocean meet,

And all things seem only one

In the universal sun.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

THE INVITATION.

BEST and brightest, come away,
Fairer far than this fair day,
Which, like thee, to those in sorrow
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.

The brightest hour of unborn spring
Through the winter wandering,

TO AURELIA.

SEE, the flowery spring is blown,
Let us leave the smoky town;
From the mall, and from the ring,
Every one has taken wing;
Chloe, Strephon, Corydon,
To the meadows all are gone.
What is left you worth your stay?
Come, Aurelia, come away.

The spirit of the gentle south-wind calls

From his blue throne of air,

gleaming like red gold;

Beauty is budding there;

The bright ones of the valley break Their slumbers, and awake.

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 trembling notes.

above this earth,

Can make a scoff of its mean joys, and vent a nobler mirth.

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,