DIRGE FOR THE YEAR. 153 DIRGE FOR THE YEAR. "ORPHAN Hours, the Year is dead! For the Year is but asleep; "As an earthquake rocks a corse So white Winter, that rough nurse, For your Mother in her shroud.”— "As the wild air stirs and sways "January grey is here, Like a sexton by her grave; February bears the bier; March with grief doth howl and rave; And April weeps:-but O ye Hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers." P. B. Shelley. 154 THE RAINY DAY. THE RAINY DAY. THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary; My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; AFTER RAIN. 155 AFTER RAIN. THE cock is crowing, The green field sleeps in the sun; Are at work with the strongest; Their heads never raising; Like an army defeated The Snow hath retreated, On the top of the bare hill; The Plough-boy is whooping-anon-anon: The rain is over and gone! W. Wordsworth. AGAIN rejoicing nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues, In vain to me the cowslips blaw, In vain to me, in glen or shaw, The mavis and the lintwhite sing. The merry ploughboy cheers his team, A dream of ane that never wauks. The wanton coot the water skims, The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap, I meet him on the dewy hill. And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, THE PRIDE OF YOUTH. Come, Winter, with thine angry howl, And maun I still on Menie doat, And bear the scorn that's in her e'e? For it's jet, jet black, and it's like a hawk, And it winna let a body be! R. Burns. THE PRIDE OF YOUTH. PROUD Maisie is in the wood, Sweet Robin sits on the bush Singing so rarely. "Tell me, thou bonny bird, "Who makes the bridal bed, Birdie, say truly?" -"The gray-headed sexton That delves the grave duly. "The glowworm o'er grave and stone Sir W. Scott. 157 |