Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green,
Over bank and over brae,

Hie away, hie away!

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

* 20 *

WINTER.

OLD Winter is a sturdy one,
And lasting stuff he's made of;
His flesh is firm as iron-stone;
There's nothing he's afraid of.

He spreads his coat upon the heath,1
Nor yet to warm it lingers;

He scouts 2 the thought of aching teeth,
Or chilblains on his fingers.

Of flowers that bloom, or birds that sing, Full little cares or knows he;

He hates the fire, and hates the Spring, And all that's warm and cosey.

But when the foxes bark aloud
On frozen hill and river,

When round the fire the people crowd,
And rub their hands, and shiver,

1 heath, an open waste tract of land.

2 scouts, sneers or laughs at.

When frost is splitting stone and wall,
And trees come crashing after, —
That hates he not, he loves it all, —
Then bursts he out in laughter.

His home is by the North Pole's strand,1
Where earth and sea are frozen;
His summer-house, we understand,
In Switzerland he's chosen.

Now from the North he's hither hied
To show his strength and power;
And, when he comes, we stand aside,
And look at him, and cower.2

* 21 *

FROM THE GERMAN.

HARVEST-HOME.

HARK! from woodlands far away
Sounds the merry roundelay; 3
Now, across the russet 4 plain,
Slowly moves the loaded wain;5
Greet the reapers as they come
Happy, happy harvest-home !6

Never fear the wintry blast,

Summer suns will shine at last;

1 strand, shore, beach of the sea.

2 cower, shrink, or crouch.

roundelay, a song in which the passages or parts are repeated.

russet, reddish-brown.

5 wain, wagon.

6 harvest-home, time of bringing home the harvest.

See the golden grain appear,
See the produce of the year.
Greet the reapers as they come
Happy, happy harvest-home!

Children join the jocund1 ring,
Young and old come forth and sing;
Stripling blithe,2 and maiden gay,
Hail the rural holiday.

Greet the reapers as they come
Happy, happy harvest-home!

Peace and plenty be our lot,
All the pangs of war forgot;
Strength to toil, and ample store,
Bless our country evermore!
Greet the reapers as they come·
Happy, happy harvest-home!

* 22 *

THE FOUR SEASONS.

SPRING.

SPRING day, happy day!

God hath made the earth so gay!
Every little flower he waketh;

Every herb to grow he maketh.

When the pretty lambs are springing,
When the little birds are singing,
Child, forget not God to praise,
Who hath sent such happy days.

1 jocund, merry, 2 blithe (pron. 'blith,'—th as in 'this'), joyful.

SUMMER.

Summer day, sultry day!
Hotly burns the noontide 1 ray;
Gentle drops of summer showers
Fall on thirsty trees and flowers;
On the cornfield 2 rain doth pour,
Ripening grain for winter store.
Child, to God thy thanks should be,
Who in summer thinks of thee.

AUTUMN.

Autumn day, fruitful day!

See what God hath given away!
Orchard trees with fruit are bending;
Harvest wains3 are homeward wending; 4
And the Lord all o'er the land

Opens wide his bounteous hand.
Children, gathering fruits that fall,
Think of God, who gives them all.

WINTER.

Winter day, frosty day!

God a cloak on all doth lay;

On the earth the snow he sheddeth;
O'er the lamb a fleece he spreadeth ;
Gives the bird a coat of feather
To protect it from the weather;
Gives the children home and food.
Let us praise him: God is good.

1 noontide, noon-time, mid-day.

2 cornfield, field of wheat or other grain.

3 wains, wagons.

4 wending, going.

She loved them as only a mother loves,
And sang them her songs of glee:

There were no little birds more happy than they, In their home in the chosen tree.

Tut one of this little family

Grew tired of his mother's care; He sat all day in a sullen mood, And nought to him was fair.

For the heart of this little bird was changed,
And he thought he should like to roam
Away o'er the fields and the high green hills,
In search of a brighter home.

II.

Ah me! there is not a brighter home
Than that which is lighted by love;
There is no other light so divinely sweet,-
Not the moon nor the stars above.

But he fled away, and he sported awhile
Amid flowers of rich perfume and hue;

But when night came on, he was weary and cold,
And it rained, and the storm-wind blew.

Ah! then he thought of his mother's wing,
Which had covered him tenderly,

And his little brothers, so happy and good,
In their home in the chosen tree.