FOR CHILDREN. 293

Your nature you must change with me,
The moment you had gained it:
Since hope fulfilled, you must allow,
Turns Now to THEN, and THEN to Now.”
vane Taylor,

 

THE WOOD-LANE IN SPRING.

I gnow a lane, thick set with golden broom,

Where the pale primrose and tall orchis bloom;

And azure violets, lowly drooping, shed

Delicious perfume round their mossy bed ;

And all the first-born blossoms of the year,

That spring uncultured, bud and blossom here.

Oh! ‘tis a lovely spot! high overhead

Gigantic oaks their lofty branches spread;

The glossy ivy, the rich eglantine,

The rambling briony, and sweet woodbine,

Fling their fantastic wreaths from spray to spray,

And shower their treasures in the lap of May.

Here, the blithe blackbird trills his matin song,

Till woodland dells his bugle notes prolong;

And the gay linnet and the airy thrush

Responsive whistle from the hawthorn bush;

Near, though unseen, the lonely cuckoo floats,

And wakes the morn with his complaining notes,

Uere the shy partridge leads her yellow brood,

And the majestic pheasant from the wood

No longer dreads the cruel fowler’s gun,

But sports his gorgeous plumage in the sun.

‘Tis passing sweet to rove these woodland bowers,

When the young sun has shed on leaves and flowers
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