SPRING IN TOWN. 171 SPRING IN TOWN. THE Country ever has a lagging Spring, Within the city's bounds the time of flowers. Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May, For the wide sidewalks of Broadway are then Meet in its depths no lovelier ones than ours. For here are eyes that shame the violet, And thick about those lovely temples lie Locks that the lucky Vignardonne has curled, Thrice happy man! whose trade it is to buy, And bake, and braid those love-knots of the world; Who curls of every glossy colour keepest, And sellest, it is said, the blackest cheapest. And well thou mayst-for Italy's brown maids Send the dark locks with which their brows are dressed, And Gascon lasses, from their jetty braids, Then, henceforth, let no maid nor matron grieve, Frouzy or thin, for liberal art shall give Such piles of curls as nature never knew. Eve, with her veil of tresses, at the sight Had blushed, outdone, and owned herself a fright SPRING IN TOW N. 173 Soft voices and light laughter wake the street, Like notes of woodbirds, and where'er the eye Threads the long way, plumes wave, and twinkling feet Fall light, as hastes that crowd of beauty by. No swimming Juno gait, of languor born, Is theirs, but a light step of freest grace, Light as Camilla's o'er the unbent corn, A step that speaks the spirit of the place, Since Quiet, meek old dame, was driven away To Sing Sing and the shores of Tappan bay. Ye that dash by in chariots! who will care For steeds or footmen now? ye cannot show Fair face, and dazzling dress, and graceful air, And last edition of the shape! Ah no, These sights are for the earth and open sky, And your loud wheels unheeded rattle by. THE GLADNESS OF NATURE. Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around; When even the deep blue heavens look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground? There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren, The ground-squirrel gayly chirps by his den, And the wilding bee hums merrily by. The clouds are at play in the azure space, And their shadows at play on the bright green vale, And here they stretch to the frolic chase, And there they roll on the easy gale. There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away. THE DISINTERRED WARRIOR. 175 THE DISINTERRED WARRIOR. GATHER him to his grave again, And solemnly and softly lay, Beneath the verdure of the plain, The warrior's scattered bones away. Pay the deep reverence, taught of old, Nor dare to trifle with the mould Once hallowed by the Almighty's breath. The soul hath quickened every part- That strong arm-strong no longer now. The awful likeness was impressed. For he was fresher from the hand That formed of earth the human face, |