FROM HONE'S _YEAR BOOK_

(_See Letter_ 535, _page_ 938)

'Tis a sad sight
To see the year dying;
When autumn's last wind
Sets the yellow wood sighing;
Sighing, oh sighing!

When such a time cometh,
I do retire
Into an old room,
Beside a bright fire;
Oh! pile a bright fire!

And there I sit
Reading old things
Of knights and ladies,
While the wind sings:
Oh! drearily sings!

I never look out,
Nor attend to the blast;
For, all to be seen,
Is the leaves falling fast:
Falling, falling!

But, close at the hearth,
Like a cricket, sit I;
Reading of summer
And chivalry:
Gallant chivalry!

Then, with an old friend,
I talk of our youth;
How 'twas gladsome, but often
Foolish, forsooth,
But gladsome, gladsome.

Or, to get merry,
We sing an old rhyme
That made the wood ring again
In summer time:
Sweet summer time!

Then take we to smoking,
Silent and snug:
Naught passes between us,
Save a brown jug;
Sometimes! sometimes!

And sometimes a tear
Will rise in each eye,
Seeing the two old friends,
So merrily;
So merrily!

And ere to bed
Go we, go we,
Down by the ashes
We kneel on the knee;
Praying, praying!

Thus then live I,
Till, breaking the gloom
Of winter, the bold sun
Is with me in the room!
Shining, shining!

Then the clouds part,
Swallows soaring between:
The spring is awake,
And the meadows are green,--

I jump up like mad;
Break the old pipe in twain;
And away to the meadows,
The meadows again!

EPSILON.

JAMES MONTGOMERY'S "THE COMMON LOT"

(_See Letter_ 535, _page_ 938