POETRY.
IN APRIL. LOVE and Youth, the gods of verse, Pour dew and flowers on Winter's hearse, At the sun's kiss, Nature's eyes Open with a glad surprise !
And the heart of life thus stirred, Throbs again in flower and bird, Glows upon the young man's face, Fills the maiden's form with grace.
Wood and meadow, sky and sea, Catch the impulse, feel the glee; And the lark upon its wing Bears the music of the Spring !
Though in London streets to-day, Yet with restless joy I stray Where the primrose, tender-eyed, Smiles upon the copse's side; Where the river, mountain-fed, Rushes through its rocky bed ; Where the stream, by sallows bound, Murmurs with a silvery sound.
April's breath upon my face, Many a woodland path I trace; Many a heath'ry track explore, Pass by many a cottage door, Watch the swallow darting by, Hear the far-off cuckoo's cry— Till my heart with them takes flight, Filled with measureless delight !
Straight the happy dream has fled, Houses tower overhead, Newsboys shout, and cabmen ply, London smoke obscures the sky.
Yet with sunshine in the heart, From the eager crowd I part, And a sense of sweet content With the vision's loss is blent.
Richer far am I than they Whom I pass upon the.way ; Richer far,—for I have been In the fields where poets glean ! And although my song be weak, Yet of Nature I can speak, And a lover's tribute bring
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