[*.* No collection of the author's poems has been made since 1848, and some of those in this volume date back even farther than that. All but two of the shortest have been printed before, either wholly or in part. As the greater number, however, were published more than fifteen years ago, they will have, perhaps, something of novelty to most readers. A few pieces, more strictly comic, have been omitted, as out of keeping; and “Fitz Adam's Story," which some good friends will miss, is also left to stand over, because it belongs to a connected scries, which, it is hoped, may be completed if the days should be propitious.] RANK-HEARTED hostess of the field and wood, FRAN Gypsy, whose roof is every spreading tree, The bluebird, shifting his light load of song But now, O rapture! sunshine winged and voiced, West Shepherding his soft droves of fleecy cloud, 10 UNDER THE WILLOWS. Gladness of woods, skies, waters, all in one, The bobolink has come, and, like the soul Save June! Dear June! Now God be praised for June! May is a pious fraud of the almanac, A ghastly parody of real Spring Shaped out of snow and breathed with eastern wind; Or if, o'er-confident, she trust the date, Herself as shivery, steal into the sun, The season need but turn his hourglass round, |