THE SEASONS.
No. I. Spring: Childhood.
The verdure of the woodland scene Spring's softest pencil tinged,
A limpid stream with silvery surf the light green meadows fringed,
The song of birds and breath of flowers made glad the balmy air,
Whilst childhood's laughter, light and loud, told human buds were there.
There on that gently sloping hill where sunbeams gild the sward,
Here glittering white with daisy gems, and there all primrose starred,
The bounding foot of childhood sinks, and voice of infant glee
Commingles gladly with the song of stream, and bird, and bee.
A limpid stream with silvery surf the light green meadows fringed,
The song of birds and breath of flowers made glad the balmy air,
Whilst childhood's laughter, light and loud, told human buds were there.
There on that gently sloping hill where sunbeams gild the sward,
Here glittering white with daisy gems, and there all primrose starred,
The bounding foot of childhood sinks, and voice of infant glee
Commingles gladly with the song of stream, and bird, and bee.
Hard by yon home whose snowy walls embowering trees surround,
And hedge-rows of the flowery thorn enclose fair garden ground,
And hedge-rows of the flowery thorn enclose fair garden ground,
