Birds too full of song to sing;
Crisp old leaves astir with pride,
Where the timid violets hide,--
All things ready with a will,--
April's coming up the hill!

Mary Mapes Dodge.

_The Wind_

The wind has a language, I would I could learn;
Sometimes 'tis soothing, and sometimes 'tis stern;
Sometimes it comes like a low, sweet song,
And all things grow calm, as the sound floats along;
And the forest is lulled by the dreamy strain;
And slumber sinks down on the wandering main;
And its crystal arms are folded in rest,
And the tall ship sleeps on its heaving breast.

Letitia Elizabeth Landon.

FOOTNOTE:

[A] _From "Along the Way," by Mary Mapes Dodge. By permission of Charles
Scribner's Sons._

_The Fountain_

Into the sunshine,
Full of the light,
Leaping and flashing
From morn till night!

Into the moonlight,
Whiter than snow,
Waving so flower-like
When the winds blow!

Into the starlight,
Rushing in spray,
Happy at midnight,
Happy by day;

Ever in motion,
Blithesome and cheery,
Still climbing heavenward,
Never aweary;

Glad of all weathers;
Still seeming best,
Upward or downward;
Motion thy rest;

Full of a nature
Nothing can tame,
Changed every moment,
Ever the same;

Ceaseless aspiring,
Ceaseless content,
Darkness or sunshine
Thy element;

Glorious fountain!
Let my heart be
Fresh, changeful, constant,
Upward like thee!

James Russell Lowell.

_The Waterfall_

_Tinkle, tinkle!_
Listen well!
Like a fairy silver bell
In the distance ringing,
Lightly swinging
In the air;
'Tis the water in the dell
Where the elfin minstrels dwell,
Falling in a rainbow sprinkle,
Dropping stars that brightly twinkle,
Bright and fair,
On the darkling pool below,
Making music so;
'Tis the water elves who play
On their lutes of spray.
_Tinkle, tinkle!_
Like a fairy silver bell;
Like a pebble in a shell;
_Tinkle, tinkle!_
Listen