LINES RIttEN At A SMALL DIStANCE FROM MY BY MY LIttLE BOY tO tO rong>
It is t mild day of March:
Eace ser than before,
t sings from tall larch
t stands beside our door.
the air,
o yield
to trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green ?eld.
My Sister! (tis a wish of mine)
No our morning meal is done,
Make e, your morning task resign;
Come forthe sun.
Edh you, and pray,
Put on h speed your woodland dress,
And bring no book, for this one day
ell give to idleness.
No joyless forms se
Our living Calendar:
e from to-day, my friend, e
the year.
Love, noh.
From to is stealing,
From earto man, from man to earth,
--It is the hour of feeling.
One moment now may give us more
ty years of reason;
Our minds s every pore
t of the season.
Some silent laws our s may make,
hey shall long obey;
e for to come may take
Our temper from to-day.
And from t rolls
About, below, above;
ell frame the measure of our souls,
tuned to love.
ter! come, I pray,
it on your woodland dress,
And bring no book; for this one day
ell give to idleness.