Bespangled o'er with livery 1 gay
Of silver droplets,2 wind their way:
All in their new apparel vie,

For Time hath laid his mantle by.

CHARLES OF ORLEANS (1391-1465).

(Written while a prisoner in England.)

* 32 *

COMMON THINGS.

THE sunshine is a glorious thing

That comes alike to all,
Lighting the peasant's 3 lowly cot,
The noble's painted hall.

The moonlight is a gentle thing;
It through the window gleams
Upon the snowy pillow, where
The happy infant dreams.

It shines upon the fisher's boat
Out on the lonely sea,

Or where the little lambkins lie
Beneath the old oak-tree.

The dewdrops, on the summer morn
Sparkle upon the grass;

The village children brush them off
As through the fields they pass:

1 livery, a kind of dress or garb.

2 droplets, little drops.

3 peasant, a farm-laborer in England and other countries of the Old World.

There are no gems in monarchs' crowns

More beautiful than they,

And yet we scarcely notice them,

But tread them off in play.

Poor robin in the pear-tree sings,

Beside the cottage door;

The heath-flower fills the air with sweets,
Upon the pathless moor.1

There are as many lovely things,
As many pleasant tones,

For those who sit by cottage hearths

As those who sit on thrones.

MRS. HAWKESWORTH.

* 33 *

HYMN TO THE SEASONS.

WHEN spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil,

When summer's balmy showers refresh the mower's toil,

When winter binds in frosty chains the fallow 2 and the flood,

In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns its maker good.

1 moor, an extensive tract of waste land covered with patches of heath. 2 fallow, land ploughed but unsown.

The birds that wake the morning and those that love the shade,

The winds that sweep the mountain or lull the drowsy glade,

The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on his way,

The moon and stars, their Maker's name in silent pomp display.

Shall man, the lord of Nature, expectant of the

sky,

Shall man, alone unthankful, his little praise

deny?

No let the Year forsake his course, the Seasons cease to be,

Thee, Master, must we always love, and, Saviour, honor thee.

The flowers of spring may wither, the hope of summer fade,

The autumn droop in winter, the birds forsake the

shade,

The wind be lulled, the sun and moon forget their old decree,1

But we in Nature's latest hour, O Lord! will cling

to thee.

REGINALD HEBER.

See Genesis i. 16.

*34*

SNOW FALLING.

THE Wonderful snow is falling

Over river and woodland and wold; 1 The trees bear spectral 2 blossoms In the moonshine blurred and cold.

There's a beautiful garden in heaven;
And these are the banished flowers,
Falling and driven, and drifted

Into this dark world of ours.

* 35 *

THE RAINBOW.

J. J. PIATT.

A FRAGMENT of a rainbow bright
Through the moist air I see,
All dark and damp on yonder height,
All bright and clear to me.

An hour ago the storm was here,
The gleam was far behind:

So will our joys and griefs appear,
When earth has ceased to blind.

Grief will be joy, if on its edge
Fall soft that holiest ray;

Joy will be grief, if no faint pledge
Be there of heavenly day.

J. KEBLE.

1 wold, an open country.

2 spectral, ghostly, unreal.

*36*

LITTLE SORROW.

AMONG the thistles on the hill,
In tears, sat Little Sorrow:

"I see a black cloud in the west,
'Twill bring a storm to-morrow;
And, when it storms, where shall I be?
And what will keep the rain from me?
Woe's me!" said Little Sorrow.

"But now the air is soft and sweet, The sunshine bright," said Pleasure: "Here is my pipe,1 if you will dance, I'll make my merriest measure; Or, if you choose, we'll sit beneath The red-rose tree, and twine a wreath: Come, come with me!" said Pleasure.

"Oh, I want neither dance nor flowers;
They're not for me," said Sorrow,
"When that black cloud is in the west,
And it will storm to-morrow!

And, if it storm, what shall I do?
I have no heart to play with you:
Go, go!" said Little Sorrow.

1 pipe, a kind of flute.