APRIL

IRDS on the boughs before the buds

BIRDS

Begin to burst in the spring,

Bending their heads to the April floods,
Too much out of breath to sing!

They chirp," Hey-day! How the rain comes down! Comrades, cuddle together!

Cling to the bark so rough and brown,

For this is April weather.

"Oh, the warm, beautiful, drenching rain!

I don't mind it, do you?

Soon will the sky be clear again,

Smiling and fresh and blue.

Sweet and sparkling is every drop
That slides from the soft, gray clouds;
Blossoms will blush to the very top
Of the bare old tree in crowds.

"Oh, the warm, delicious, hopeful rain! Let us be glad together.

Summer comes flying in beauty again,

Through the fitful April weather."

CELIA THAXTER.

MAY

WHY are bees and butterflies

Dancing in the sun?

Violets and buttercups

Blooming every one?

Why does Mr. Bobolink

Seem so shocking gay?

Why does ah! I'd half forgot!

This is really May.

Why are all the water bugs

Donning roller-skates?

And the solemn ladybugs

Dozing on the gates?

Why do all the meadow brooks

Try to run away,

As though some one were chasing them?

Bless me! this is May.

Please to tell me why the trees

Have put new bonnets on? Please to tell me why the crows Their picnics have begun?

Why does all the whole big world

Smell like a fresh bouquet

Picked from one of God's flower-beds?

Oh, I know! it's May.

R. M. ALDEN.

MAY

THEN come, fair May, the fairest maid on ground,

Deck'd all with dainties of her season's pride,

And throwing flowers out of her lap around:
Upon two brethren's shoulders she did ride:
The twins of Leda, which on either side

Supported her like to their sovereign queen.

Lord! how all creatures laughed when her they spied, And leapt and danced as they had ravish'd been, And Cupid self about her fluttered all in green.

EDMUND SPENSER.

A SUMMER DAY

THIS is the way the morning dawns:

Rosy tints on flowers and trees,

Winds that wake the birds and bees, Dewdrops on the fields and lawns,This is the way the morning dawns.

This is the way the sun comes up:
Gold on brooks and glossy leaves,
Mist that melts above the sheaves,
Vine, and rose, and buttercup,—
This is the way the sun comes up.

This is the way the rain comes down:
Tinkle, tinkle, drop by drop,

Over roof and chimney top;

Boughs that bend and skies that frown,This is the way the rain comes down.

This is the way the river flows:
Here a whirl and there a dance;
Slowly now, then like a lance,

Swiftly to the sea it goes,—
This is the way the river flows.