Volume 1 — MORNING IN SPRING.

From the valleys to the hills See the morning mists arise; And the early dew distills Balmy incense to the skies. Purple clouds, with vapory grace, Round the sun their soft sail fling; Now they fade—and from his face Beams the new-born bliss of Spring! From the cool grass glitter bright Myriad drops of diamond dew; Bending 'neath their pressure light, Waves the green corn, springing new Nought but the fragrant wind is heard, Whispering softly through the trees, Or, lightly perched, the early bird Chirping to the morning breeze Dewy May-flowers to the sun Ope their buds of varied hue. Fragrant shades—his beams to shun— Hide the violet's heavenly blue A joyous sense of life revived Streams through every limb and vein: I thank thee, Lord! that I have lived To see the bright young Spring again! Eta.