Like spangles dropped from the glistening crowd,
That whiten by night the milky way;
There broader and burlier masses fall;
The sullen water buries them all

Flake after flake

All drowned in the dark and silent lake.

And some, as on tender wings they glide
From their chilly birth-cloud, dim and gray,
Are joined in their fall, and, side by side,

Come clinging along their unsteady way;
As friend with friend, or husband with wife,
Makes hand in hand the passage of life;
Each mated flake

Soon sinks in the dark and silent lake.

Lo! while we are gazing, in swifter haste

Stream down the snows, till the air is white,

As, myriads by myriads madly chased,

They fling themselves from their shadowy height The fair frail creatures of middle sky,

What speed they make, with their grave so nigh; Flake after flake,

To lie in the dark and silent lake!

I see in thy gentle eyes a tear;

They turn to me in sorrowful thought; Thou thinkest of friends, the good and dear, Who were for a time, and now are not; Like those fair children of cloud and frost, That glisten a moment and then are lost, Flake after flake

All lost in the dark and silent lake.

Yet look again, for the clouds divide;
A gleam of blue on the water lies;
And far away, on the mountain side,

A sunbeam falls from the opening skies.
But the hurrying host that flew between
The cloud and the water, no more is seen;
Flake after flake,

At rest in the dark and silent lake.

William Cullen Bryant.

WE

THE SNOW-STORM.

E are free! we are free! the snowflakes cried,
Hurrah! hurrah! away we hide.

Now we're whirling, and twirling, and dancing around,

And gently sinking to the ground.

The jolly north wind! how he makes us fly,
And whistles the tune we are dancing by.
We cover the valleys, we cover the hills,
We bury the flowers and frozen rills,

We're dashing out this way, and that way again,
We're dashing against the window pane.

Then away, away, away, away,

We'll make a track for the merry sleigh;

We're drifting high, ah! ah! here's fun

For the boys and girls

When school is done.

Now we're whirling, and twirling, and dancing around,

And gently sinking to the ground.

- Selected.

THE DISAPPOINTED SNOWFLAKES.

FOUR

OUR and twenty snowflakes came tumbling from the sky,

And said, "Let's make a snow drift

We can if we but try."

So down they gently fluttered

And lighted on the ground,
And when they were all seated
They sadly looked around.
"We're very few indeed," sighed they,
"And we sometimes make mistakes;
We cannot make a snowdrift

With four and twenty flakes."
Just then the sun peeped round a cloud

And smiled at the array,
And the disappointed snowflakes

Melted quietly away.

-Selected.

IT SNOWS! IT SNOWS!

T snows! yes, it snows! and the children are wild,

IT

At thought of the fun in the snow-drifts up-piled;
The boy with his first new boots is in sight,

And the wee baby-girl, with her mittens so bright.
They are tramping and tossing the snow as they run,
And laughing and shouting, so brimful of fun;
While the ten-year-old twins, in a somersault mood,
Have measured their length from the barn to the wood,
A dozen times, yes, or it may be a score,

Till their cheeks are as red as the roses, and more;

Then the elfin of twelve and the boy of fifteen
Are pelting each other with snowballs so keen,
That we, who are older, forget to be staid,
And shout, each with each, as the youngsters, arrayed
In feathery garments, press on or retreat,
Determined to win, nor acknowledge defeat.

But the children, at length, tired out with their play,
And stamping the snow from their feet by the way,
Come slipping and stumbling and scrambling along,
While the big brother catching the baby-girl's song,
“Oh, my finders are told!" gives her now a gay toss,
The golden hair streaming like distaff of floss ;-
And so cheery the group that is ranged round the board,
That for snow, blessed snow, we all thank the good Lord.

Breezes strong,

Breezes strong,

Sweeping swift along,

Do your trumpets blow for him.
In the forests dark and dim?

Breezes strong,

Breezes strong,

Sweeping swift along.

Pretty star,

Pretty star,

Beaming at us from afar,

Smiling down,

Smiling down,

On the busy town,

Have you lit your lamp so bright

Just in honor of the night?

Pretty star,

Pretty star,

Beaming from afar.

— A. E. C. — Popular Educator

THE SNOW-BIRD.

IN the roses below,

N the morning light trills the gay swallow,

The meadow-lark sings in the meadow, And the snow-bird sings in the snow. "Twee wee!

Chickadee !"

The snow-bird sings in the snow.