it grievous thing
To weep their own sweet leaves away,
Untaught as yet how soon the Spring
Upon their nestled heads should lay
Her callow wing--

"The trees, whereat we smiled again,
To see them, in their growing wonder,
Suppose their buds were verdant rain,
Until the gay winds rustled under
Their feathered train,

"Lo, now they stand in braver mien,
And, claiming stronger shadow-right,
Make prisoner of the intrusive light,
And strew the winds with green.

III

"Of all the flowers that bow the head,
Or gaze erect on sun and sky,
Not one there is, declines to sned,
Or standeth up, to qualify
His incense-meed:

"Of all that blossom one by one,
Or join their lips in loving cluster,
Not one hath now resolved alone,
Or taken counsel, that his lustre
Shall be unshown.

"So let thy soul a blossom be,
To breathe the fragrance of its praise,
And lift itself, in early days,
To Him who fosters thee.

IV

"Of all the founts, bedropped with light,
Or silver-tress'd with shade of trees,
Not one there is, but sprinkles bright
It's plume of freshness on the breeze,
And jewelled flight:

"Of all that hush among the moss,
Or babble to the lily-vases,
Not one there is but purls across
A gush of the delight, that causes
It's limpid gloss.

"So let thy heart a fountain be,
To rise in sparkling joy, and fall
In dimpled melody--and all
For love of home, and me."

V

The only fount her heart became
Rose quick with sighs, and fell in tears;
While pink upon her white cheek came,
(Like apple-blossom among pear's)
The tinge of shame.

Her husband, pierced with new alarm,
Bent nigh to ask of her distresses,
Enclasping her with sheltering arm,
Unwinding by discreet caresses,
The thread of harm.

Then she, with sobs of slow relief
(For silence is the jail of care)
Confessed, for him to heal or share,
The first of human grief.

VI

"I cannot look on thee, and think
That thou has ceased to hold me dear;
I cannot break the loosened link:
When thou, my only one, art near,
How can