LINES RIttEN At A SMALL DIStANCE FROM MY    BY MY LIttLE BOY tO t>

        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 m meal is done,

        Make e, your m task resign;

        e 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 dar:

        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 ay take

        Our temper from to-day.

        And from t rolls

        About, below, above;

        ell frame the measure of our souls,

        tuo love.

        ter! e, I pray,

        it on your woodland dress,

        And bring no book; for this one day

        ell give to idleness.
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