LONGFELLOW'S POEMS. EARLY POEMS. AN APRIL DAY. WHEN the warm sun, that brings Seed-time and harvest, has returned again, 'Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs The first flower of the plain. I love the season well, When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell The coming-on of storms. From the earth's loosened mould The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives; The softly-warbled song Comes from the pleasant woods, and coloured wings Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along The forest openings. When the bright sunset fills The silver woods with light, the green slope throws And, when the eve is born, In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far, Inverted in the tide Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw; And the fair trees look over, side by side, And see themselves below. Sweet April! many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; AUTUMN. WITH What a glory comes and goes the year? The buds of spring, those beautiful harbingers sunny skies and cloudless times, enjoy Of Life's newness, and earth's garniture spread out. There is a beautiful spirit breathing now |