WOODLAND AND WILD. WINTER'S DEPARTURE. EE where surly Winter passes off, Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts; The shatter'd forest and the ravaged vale; The mountains lift their green heads to the sky. As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd, At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun, And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more The expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold; But, full of life and vivifying soul, Lifts the light clouds sublime; and spreads them thin, B J. Thomson. FEBRUARY. THE snow has left the cottage top; In tubs set by the cottage door; While ducks and geese, with happy joys, Plunge in the yard-pond brimming o'er. The sun peeps through the window-pane; Which children mark with laughing eye, And in the wet street steal again, To tell each other Spring is nigh: Then, as young hope the past recalls, In playing groups they often draw, To build beside the sunny walls Their spring-time huts of sticks or straw. And oft in pleasure's dreams they hie Where painted pooty shells abide; Mistaking oft the ivy spray For leaves that come with budding Spring, And wondering, in their search for play, Why birds delay to build and sing. The milkmaid singing leaves her bed, As jocund in the change as she : Nor lingering wait the foddering-boy; Tossing the mole-hills in their play, And staring round with frolic joy. The shepherd now is often seen Near warm banks o'er his hook to bend; Or o'er a gate or stile to lean, And, mingling o'er the mellow soils, Boys shout, and whips are noising now. The barking dogs by lane and wood, Drive sheep a-field from foddering ground; And Echo, in her summer mood, Briskly mocks the cheering sound. The flocks, as from a prison broke, While, following fast, a misty smoke No more behind his master's heels The dog creeps on his winter-pace ; But cocks his tail, and o'er the fields Runs many a wild and random chase; 1 As crows from morning perches fly, His frolic puppy-days are done! The hedgehog, from his hollow root, And all his barking rage defies. The gladden'd swine bolt from the sty, Beside the cottage in the sun. |