THE MONTHS.
I.
From your high dwellings, in the realms of your snow
And cloud, where many an avalancheʼs fall
Is heard resounding from the mountainʼs brow,

5

Come, ye cold wind, at Januaryʼs call,
On whistling wings ; and with white flakes bestrew
The earth, till Februaryʼs reign restore
The race of torrents to their wonted flow,
Whose waves shall stand in silent ice no more ;

10

But, lashed by Marchʼs maddened winds, shall roar
With voice of ire, and beat the rocks on every shore.

II.
Bow down your heads, ye flowers, in gentle guise,
Before the dewy rain that April sheds,

15

Whose sun shines through her clouds with quick sur‐
prise,
Shedding soft influences on your heads ;
And wreathe ye round the rosy month that flies
To scatter perfumes in the path of June ;

20

Till Julyʼs sun upon the mountains rise
Triumphant, and the wan and weary moon
Mingle her cold beams with the burning lume
That Sirius shoots through all the dreary midnight
gloom.

25

III.
Rejoice ! ye fields, rejoice, and wave with gold,
When August round her previous gifts is flinging ;
Lo ! the crushed wain is slowly homeward rolled ;
The sun‐burnt reaperʼs jocund lays are singing ;

30

Septemberʼs steps her juicy stores unfold,
If the spring blossoms have not blushed in vain :
Octoberʼs foliage yellows with his cold :
In rattling showers dark Novemberʼs rain,>
From every stormy cloud, descends amain,

35

Till keen Decemberʼs snows close up the year again.
J. R.

The Months