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Now fluttering breeze—now stormy blast,
Mild rain, then blustering snow—
Winter's stern fettering cold is passed,
But, sweet Spring ! where art thou?
The white cloud floats 'mid smiling blue,
The broad bright sunshine's golden hue
Bathes the still frozen earth,
'Tis changed 1–above, black vapours roll,
We turn from our expected stroll,
And seek the blazing hearth.
Hark, that sweet carol! with delight
We leave the stifling room;
The little blue-bird greets our sight,
Spring, glorious Spring has come!
The south-wind’s balm is in the air,
The melting snow-wreaths every where
Are leaping off in showers,
And Nature, in her brightening looks,
Tells that her flowers, and leaves, and brooks,
And birds, will soon be ours.
A few soft sunny days have shone,
The air has lost its chill,
A bright green tinge succeeds the brown
Upon the southern hill.
Off to the woods—a pleasant scene—
Here sprouts the fresh young wintergreen,
There swells a mossy mound,
Though in the hollows drifts are piled,
The wandering wind is sweet and mild,
And buds are bursting round.
Where its long rings uncurls the fern,
The violet, nestling low,
Casts back the white lid of its urn,
Its purple streaks to show:
Beautiful blossom' first to rise
And smile beneath Spring's wakening skies,
The courier of the band
Of coming flowers, what feelings sweet
Gush, as the silvery gem we meet
Upon its slender wand.
A sudden roar—a shade is cast—
We look up with a start,
And sounding like a transient blast,
O'erhead the pigeons dart;
Scarce their blue glancing shapes the eye
Can trace, ere, dotted on the sky,
AN AMERICAN For Est s PRING.
They wheel in distant flight.
A chirp-and swift the squirrel scours
Along the prostrate trunk, and cowers
Within its clefts, from sight.
Amid the creeping vine, which spreads
Its thick and verdant wreath,
The scaur-berry’s downy spangle sheds *
Its rich delicious breath.
The bee-swarm murmurs by, and now
It clusters black on yonder bough—
The robin's mottled breast
Glances that sunny spot across,
As round it seeks the twig and moss,
To frame its summer nest.
Warmer is each successive sky,
More soft the breezes pass,
The maple's gems of crimson lie
Upon the thick green grass.
The dogwood sheds its clusters white,
The birch has dropped its tassels slight,
Cowslips are round the rill,
The thresher whistles in the glen,
Flutters around the warbling wren,
And swamps have voices shrill.
A simultaneous burst of leaves
Has clothed the forest now,
A single day's bright sunshine weaves
This vivid gorgeous show.
Masses of shade are cast beneath,
The flowers are spread in varied wreath,
Night brings its soft sweet moon,
Morn wakes in mist, and twilight gray,
Weeps its bright dew, and smiling May
Melts blooming into June 1
THE EID G B OF THE SW AMP.
B Y W. G. S I M M S.
'T is a wild spot and hath a gloomy look;
The bird sings never merrily in the trees, *
And the young leaves seem blighted. A rank growth
Spreads poisonously round, with power to taint,
With blistering dews, the thoughtless hand that dares
To penetrate the covert. Cypresses
Crowd on the dank, wet earth; and, stretched at length
The cayman—a fit dweller in such home—
Slumbers, half-buried in the sedgy grass,
Beside the green ooze where he shelters him.
A whooping crane erects his skeleton form,
And shrieks in flight. Two summer-ducks aroused
To apprehension, as they hear his cry,
Dash up from the lagoon, with marvellous haste,
Following his guidance. Meetly taught by these,
And startled at our rapid, near approach,
The steel-jawed monster, from his grassy bed,
Crawls slowly to his slimy, green abode,
Which straight receives him. You behold him now,