Chapter I: Mclellan

27. Drear _Winter!_
With no unholy awe we hear thy voice,
As by our dying embers, safely housed,
We in deep silence muse.

H. K. WHITE.

28. You love to go in the capricious days
Of _April_, and hunt violets, when the rain
Is in their blue cups, trembling as they nod
So gracefully, to kisses of the wind.

N. P. WILLIS.

29. Merry, ever merry May!
Made of sun-gleams, shades, and showers,
Bursting buds, and breathing flowers;
Dripping-lock'd, and rosy-vested,
Violet-slipper'd, rainbow-crested,
Girdled with the eglantine,
Festoon'd with the flowering vine!

GALLAGHER.

30. When the warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,
The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,
And the year,
On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,
Is lying.

SHELLEY.

31. When the angel of dread _Winter_ cometh,
But not in anger. As he speeds along,
Borne on the chilling wind, he bids appear
A thousand varied hues the trees among!
What magic beauty doth his presence fling
Round every leaf that quivers in the dell,
Or shrub that to the mountain side doth cling!
And the bright scene the calm lake mirrors well,
As if within its depths were wove some golden spell.

H. F. HARRINGTON.

32. Delicious Spring!
Nursed in the lap of thin and subtle showers,
Which fall from clouds that lift their snowy wing
From odorous buds of light-enfolded flowers,
And from enmassed bowers,
That over grassy walks their greenness fling.

ALBERT PIKE.

33. The Summer, the radiant Summer's the fairest,
For green woods and mountains, for meadows and bowers,
For waters and fruits, and for flowers the rarest,
And for bright shining butterflies, lovely as flowers.

MARY HOWITT.

34. When _September's_ golden day,
Serenely still, intensely bright,
Fades on the umber'd hills away
And melts into the coming night.

MRS. WHITMAN.

35. When Autumn chills the foliage, and sheds
O'er the piled leaves, among the evergreens,
All colors and all tints to grace the scene.

RUFUS DAWES.

36. Ho! jewel-keeper of the hoary North!
Whence hast thou all thy treasures? Why, the mines
Of rich Golconda, since the world was young,
Would fail to furnish such a glorious show!
Yes, the _Wintry_ king,
So long decried, hath revenue more rich
Than sparkling diamonds!

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

37. When _Spring_
From sunny slopes comes wandering,
Calling violets from the sleep,
That bound them under the snow-drift deep,
To open their childlike, asking eyes
On the new summer paradise.

J. R. LOWELL.

38. Autumn! how lovely is thy pensive air!
But chief the sounds from thy reft woods delight;
Their deep, low murmurs to the soul impart
A solemn stillness.

MRS. TIGHE--_Psyche._

39. When _Winter_ nights grow long,
And winds without blow cold,
And we sit in a ring round the warm hearth-fire,
And listen to stories old.

BARRY CORNWALL.

40. _Spring_;
When blushing like a bride from Hope's trim bower,
She leaps, awakened by the pattering shower.

COLERIDGE.

41. _Autumn_ dark on the mountains; when gray mists rest on the
hills. The whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark rolls the river
through the narrow plain. The leaves whirl with the wind, and
strew the graves of the dead.

OSSIAN.

42. When the rosy-bosom'd Hours,
Fair Venus' train, appear;
Disclose the long-expected flowers,
And wake the purple year.
The attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,
The untaught harmony of _Spring_;
While, whispering pleasure as they fly,
Cool zephyrs, through the clear blue sky,
Their gather'd fragrance fling.

GRAY.

43. When golden _Autumn_ from her open lap
The fragrant bounty showers.

SOMERVILLE--_The Chace_.

44. Dark _Winter_ is a happy time:
God gives the earth repose, and earth bids man
Wipe his hot brow; the poet pours his rhyme,
And mirth awakes.

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

45. When _Spring-tide_ approaches;
Leaf by leaf is developed, and warm'd by the radiant sunshine,
Blushes with purple and gold, till at last the perfected blossom
Opens its odorous chalice, and rocks with its crown to the breeze.

LONGFELLOW.

46. The first day of _May_,
When the sun is rejoicing alone in heaven,
The clouds have all hurried away.
Down in the meadow the blossoms are waking,
Light on their twigs the young leaves are shaking,
Round the warm knolls the lambs are a-leaping,
The colt from his fold o'er the pasture is sweeping,
And on the bright lake,
The little waves break,
For there the cool west is at play.

J. G. PERCIVAL.

47. The desolate and dying year,
Yet lovely in its lifelessness,
As beauty stretch'd upon the bier,
In death's clay-cold and dark caress;
There's loveliness in its decay,
Which breathes, which lingers on it still.

J. G. BROOKS.

48. Pale, rugged _Winter_, bending o'er his tread,
His grizzled hair bedropt with icy dew;
His eyes a dusky light, congeal'd and dead,
His robe a tinge of bright ethereal blue.

CHATTERTON.

49. The uncertain glory of an _April_ day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the skies,
And by and by a cloud takes all away.

_Two Gentlemen of Verona._

50. When the sun
More darkly tinges Spring's fair brow,
And laughing fields have just begun
The _Summer's_ golden hues to show;
Earth still with flowers is richly dight,
And the _last_ rose in gardens bides to glow.

GEORGE BANCROFT.

51. The pryde, the _manhode_ of the yeare,
When eke the ground is dight in its most deft[B] aumere.[C]

ROWLEY--(_Chatterton_.)

[B] Ornamental.

[C] Mantle.

52. An _Autumn_ night
With a piercing sight,
And a step both strong and free;
And a voice for wonder,
Like the wrath of the thunder,
When he shouts to the stormy sea!

BARRY CORNWALL.

53. When _Spring's_ first gale
Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie.

MRS. HEMANS.

54. When
The breath of _Winter_ comes from far away,
And the rich west continually bereaves
Of some gold tinge, and plays a roundelay
Of death among the bushes and the leaves.

KEATS.

55. When _Spring_ pours out his showers, as is his wont,
And bathes the breathing tresses of meek eve.

COLLINS.

56. _Autumn_ skies, when all the woods are hung
With many tints, the fading livery
Of life, in which it mourns the coming storms
Of winter; when the quiet winds awake
Faint dirges in the wither'd leaves, and breathe
Their sorrow through the grove.

PERCIVAL.

57. Sweet _Spring_, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie.

OLD HERBERT.

58. When a soft haze is hanging o'er the hill,
Tinged with a purple light. How beautiful,
And yet how cold! 'Tis the first robe put on
By sad _October_.

W. G. SIMMS.

59. _Spring_ doeth all she can, I trow;
She brings the bright hours,
She weaves the sweet flowers,
She dresseth her bowers
For all below.

BARRY CORNWALL.

60. _Spring time_,
Which crumbles Winter's gyves with tender might,
When in the genial breeze, (the breath of God,)
Come spouting up the unseal'd springs to light,
Flowers start from their dark prisons at our feet,
And woods, long dumb, awake to hymnings sweet.

BRYANT.

WHAT HOUR DO YOU LOVE?

Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine,
Deep felt, in these appear! A simple train
Yet so delightful, mix'd with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combined,
Shade unperceived so softening into shade,
And all so forming an harmonious whole,
That as they still succeed, they ravish still.

THOMSON.

The winged Hours!
Commission'd in alternate watch they stand,
The sun's bright portals, and the skies, command;
Close or unfold the eternal gates of day,
Bar heaven with clouds, or roll those clouds away.

DRYDEN'S VIRGIL.

WHAT HOUR DO YOU LOVE?

1. When, from ebon streak,
The _moon_ puts forth a little diamond peak,
No bigger than an unobserved star,
Or tiny point of fairy cimeter;
Bright signal, that she only stoops to tie
Her silver sandals, ere deliciously
She bows into the heavens her timid head.

KEATS.

2. When _morning_ cometh, with a still
And gliding mystery, on the breaking gray
Of the fresh east.

W. G. SIMMS.

3. When the _stars_ are out--
Cold, but still beautiful,--a crowded choir,
Harmonious in their heavenly minstrelsy.

RUFUS DAWES.

4. When blue-eyed day
Has yielded up her regency, and _night_,
Exceeding beautiful, resumes her right
As solemn watchman.

MISS M. E. LEE.

5. When sunk the sun, and up the eastern heaven,
Like maiden on a lonely pilgrimage,
Moves the meek star of eve.

MILMAN.

6. When _Phoebus_, fresh as bridegroom to his mate,
Comes dauncing forth, shaking his dewie hayre,
And hurls his glistering beams through gloomy ayre.

SPENSER.

7. When on the sunlit limits of the night,
Her white shell trembling amid crimson air,
Glides the _young moon_.

SHELLEY.

8. When clouds lay cradled near the _setting sun_,
And gleams of crimson tinge their braided snow.

WILSON.

9. When the glorious sun has gone,
And the gathering darkness of _night comes on_;
Like a curtain from God's kind hand it flows,
To shade the couch where his children repose.

H. WARE, JR.

10. You love the deep, deep pause, that reigns
At _highest noon_, o'er hills and plains.

CARRINGTON.

11. When the stars do disappear,
With only one remaining,
The morning star alone;
Just like a maid complaining,
When all her hopes are gone.

WILLIAM CRAFTS.

12. When climbs above the eastern bar
The _horned moon_, with one bright star
Within the nether lip.

COLERIDGE.

13. When comes forth the _glorious day_,
Like a bridegroom richly dight,
And before his flashing ray
Flies the sullen, vanquish'd night.

S. G. BULFINCH.

14. When Apollo doth devise
new apparelling for western skies.

KEATS.

15. Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And like phantoms, grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful fire-light,
Dance upon the parlor wall.

LONGFELLOW.

16. When like a dying lady, lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The _moon arises_ on the murky earth.

SHELLEY.

17. _Morning_ in your garden, when each leaf of crisped green
Hangs tremulous in diamonds, with em'rald rays between.
It is the birth of nature, baptized in early dew,
The plants look meekly up and smile as if their God they knew.

MRS. GILMAN.

18. Ah, let the gay the roseate morning hail,
When, in the various blooms of light array'd,
She bids fresh beauty live along the vale,
And rapture tremble in the vocal shade.
Sweet is the lucid morning's opening flower,
Her choral melodies benignly rise;
Yet dearer to your soul the _shadowy hour_
At which her blossoms close, her music dies.

MISS H. M. WILLIAMS.

19. The _middle watch_ of a summer's _night_,
When earth is dark, but the heavens are bright;
Naught is seen in the vault on high,
But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky,
And the flood, which rolls its milky hue,
A river of white on the welkin blue.

DRAKE.

20. When little birds begin discourse,
In quick, low voices, _ere the streaming light_
Pours on their nests from out the day's fresh source.

R. H. DANA.

21. _Morning_, when the sun pours his first light
Amid a forest, and with ray aslant,
Entering its depth, illumes the branchless pines,
Brightening their bark, tinging with redder hue
Its rusty stains, and casting on the earth
Long lines of shadow, where they rise erect
Like pillars of a temple.

SOUTHEY--_Madoc_.

22. _Sunrise_, slanting on a city, when
The early risen poor are coming in,
Duly and cheerfully to toil, and up
Rises the hammer's clink, with the far hum
Of moving wheels, and multitudes astir,
And all that in a city murmur swells.

N. P. WILLIS.

23. When the _west_
Opens her golden bowers of _rest_,
And a moist radiance from the skies
Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes
Of some meek penitent, whose last
Bright hours atone for dark ones past,
And whose sweet tears o'er wrong forgiven,
Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven.

MOORE--_Lalla Rookh_.

24. The _midnight_ hour, when
Slow through the studious gloom, thy pausing eye,
Led by the glimmering taper, moves around
The sacred volumes of the dead.

AKENSIDE--_Pleasures of the Imagination_.

25. When _evening's virgin Queen_
Sits on her fringed throne serene,
And mingling whispers, rising near,
Steal on the still reposing ear.

H. K. WHITE.

26. When the moon riseth as if dreaming,
Treading with still white feet the lulled sea.

_From the Etonian._

27. When day hath put on his jacket, and around
His burning bosom button'd it with stars.

O. W. HOLMES.

28. _Morning_, with all her attributes; the slow
Impearling of the heavens, the sparkling white
On the webb'd grass, the fragrant mistiness,
The fresh airs, with the twinkling leaves at sport,
And all the gradual and emerging light,
The crystalline distinctness settling clear,
And all the wakening of strengthening sound.

MILMAN--_Lord of the Bright City_.

29. Her _twilight_ robe when nature wears,
And evening sheds her sweetest tears,
Which every thirsty plant receives,
While silence trembles on the leaves.
From every tree, and flower, and bush,
There seems to breathe a soothing hush,
While every transient sound but shows
How deep and still is the repose.

MRS. FOLLEN.

30. When as the _evening shades prevail_,
The moon takes up her wondrous tale,
And, nightly, to the listening earth
Proclaims the story of her birth.
While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

ADDISON.

31. When thronging constellations rush in crowds,
Paving with fire the sky.

SHELLEY.

32. A _beautiful sunset_, when warm o'er the lake
Its splendor, at parting, a summer eve throws,
Like a bride full of blushes, when lingering to take
A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes.

MOORE--_Lalla Rookh_.

33. The _midnight_ hour,
The starlight wedding of the earth and heaven,
When music breathes in perfume from the flower,
And high revealings to the heart are given.

S. L. FAIRFIELD.

34. Weel may'st thou welcome the night's deathly reign,
Wi' souls of the dearest ye're mingling then;
The gowd light o' mornin' is lightless to thee,
But, oh! for the _night_ wi' its ghost revelrie.

WILLIAM THOM.

35. Come, stir the fire, and close the shutters fast;
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round;
And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So will you welcome cheerful _evening_ in.

COWPER--_Task_.

36. When the _moon_
Bends her _new_ silver bow, as if to fling
Her arrowy lustre through some vapor's wing.

PARK BENJAMIN.

37. Be it the _summer noon_; a sandy space
The ebbing tide has left upon its place,
While the broad basin of the ocean keeps
An equal motion, swelling as it sleeps,
Then, slowly sinking, curling to the strand,
Faint, lazy waves o'er-creep the ridgy sand.
Ships in the calm seem anchor'd, for they glide
On the still sea, urged solely by the tide.

CRABBE.

38. Night; when the stars are gemming heaven,
And seem like angels' eyes,
Resuming still their silent watch
Within the far-off skies.
When tenderly they gaze on us,
Those children of the air,
While every ray they send to us
Some message seems to bear.

MISS LEWIS.

39. The _Sabbath morn_
So sweet;--all sounds save nature's voice are still;
Mute shepherd's song-pipe, mute the harvest horn,
A holier tongue is given to brook and rill;
Old men climb silently their cottage-hill,
There ruminate, and look sublime abroad,
Shake from their feet, as thought on thought comes still,
The dust of life's long, dark, and dreary road,
And rise from this gross earth, and give the day to God.

THOMAS MILLER.

40. When the fair young moon in a silver bow
Looks back from the bending west,
Like a weary soul that is glad to go
To the long-sought place of rest.
When her crescent lies in a beaming crown,
On the distant hill's dark head,
Serene as the righteous looking down
On the world from his dying-bed.

MISS H. F. GOULD.

41. When gleaming through the gorgeous fold
Of clouds, around his glory roll'd,
The _orb of gold_, half hid, half seen,
Swells his rays of tremulous sheen,
That, widely as the billows roll,
Glance quivering on their distant goal.

SOTHEBY--_Constance de Castile_.

42. When, like lobster boiled, the _morn_
From black to red begins to turn.

BUTLER--_Hudibras_.

43. When in mid air, on seraph wing,
The paly _moon_ is journeying
In stillest paths of stainless blue.
Keen, curious stars are peering through
Heaven's arch this hour; they dote on her
With perfect love, nor can she stir
Within her vaulted halls apace,
Ere, rushing out with joyous face,
These Godkins of the sky
Smile as she glides in loveliness,
While every heart beats high
With passion, and breaks forth to bless
Her loftier divinity.

MOTHERWELL.

44. When comes still evening on, and twilight gray
Hath in her sober livery all things clad,
Silence accompanying.

MILTON--_Paradise Lost_.

45. When calm the grateful air, and loth to lose
Day's grateful warmth, though moist with falling dews;
Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none;
Look up a second time, and one by one
You mark them twinkle out, with silvery light,
And wonder how they could elude your sight.

WORDSWORTH.

46. When your fire, with dim unequal light,
Just glimmering, bids each shadowy image fall
Sombrous and strange upon the darkening wall,
Ere the clear taper chase the deepening night.

W. L. BOWLES.

47. When the sun's broad orb
Seems resting on the burnish'd wave,
And lines
Of purple gold hang motionless,
Above the _sinking sphere_.

SHELLEY.

48. _Morn_ breaking in the east. When purple clouds
Are putting on their gold and violet,
To look the meeter for the sun's bright coming.

N. P. WILLIS.

49. When the day
In golden slumber sinks, with accent sweet
_Mild evening_ comes, to lure the willing feet
With her to stray,
Where'er the bashful flowers the observant eye may greet.

H. PICKERING.

50. The light of _midnight_ skies
When the red meteor rides the cloud.

MISS LANDON.

51. When at _noon_,
High on his throne, the visible lord of light
Rides in his fullest blaze, and dashes wide
Thick flashes from his wheels

_J. G. Percival._

52. _Night_ on the waves, when the moon is on high,
Hung like a gem on the brow of the sky,
Treading its depths in the power of her might,
And turning the clouds as they pass her to light.

J. K. HERVEY.

53. When yonder _western throng of clouds_
_Retiring_ from the sky,
So calmly move, so softly glow,
They seem, to fancy's eye,
Bright creatures of a better sphere,
Come down at noon to worship here,
And from their sacrifice of love
Returning to their courts above.

G. D. PRENTICE.

54. When the _moon_, her lids unclosing, deigns
To smile serenely on the charmed sea,
That shines, as if inlaid with lightning chains,
From which it hardly struggled to be free.

EPES SARGENT.

55. The _high festival of night_,
When earth is radiant with delight,
And fast as weary day retires
The heaven unfolds its secret fires,
Bright, as when first the firmament
Around the new-made world was bent,
And infant seraphs pierced the blue,
Till rays of heaven came shining through.

W. B. O. PEABODY.

56. When the _sun_
_Rises_, visiting earth with light, and heat,
And joy; and seems as full of youth, and strong
To mount the steep of heaven, as when the stars
Of morning sang to his first dawn.

POLLOK--_Course of Time_.

57. Let others hail the oriflamme of morn,
O'er kindling hills unfurl'd, with gorgeous dyes,
Oh, mild blue _evening_, still to thee we turn,
With holier thoughts and with undazzled eyes.

R. C. SANDS.

58. _Night_; when a cloud, which through the sky,
Sailing alone, doth cross in her career
The rolling moon;--to watch it as it comes,
And deem the deep opaque will blot her beams;
But melting like a wreath of snow, it hangs
In folds of wavy silver round, and clothes
The orb with richer beauties than her own;
Then, passing, leaves her in her light serene.

SOUTHEY--_Madoc_.

59. Thine own loved _moon's_,
That every soft and solemn spirit worships;
That lovers love so well; strange joy is _hers_,
Whose influence o'er all tides of soul hath power.
She lends her light to rapture and despair;
The glow of hope, and wan hue of sick fancy,
Alike reflect her rays; alike they light
The path of meeting or of parting love;
Alike on mingling or on breaking hearts
_She_ smiles in throned beauty.

MATURIN--_Bertram_.

60. _Sunrise;_
Rolling back the clouds into
Vapors more lovely than the unclouded sky,
With golden pinnacles and snowy mountains,
And billows purpler than the ocean's, making
In heaven a glorious mockery of the earth,
So like, we almost deem it permanent;
So fleeting, we can scarcely call it aught
Beyond a vision, 'tis so transiently
Scatter'd along the eternal vault; and yet
It dwells upon the soul, and sooths the soul,
And blends itself into the soul, until
Sunrise and sunset form the haunted epoch
Of sorrow and of love.

BYRON--_Sardanapalus_.

WHAT MUSICAL SOUNDS DO YOU LOVE?

Oh for some soul-affecting scheme
Of _moral_ music.

WORDSWORTH.

Music, round her creep----
Seek her out, and when you find her,
Gentle, gentlest music, wind her
Round and round,
Round and round,
With your bands of softest sound.

BARRY CORNWALL.

WHAT MUSICAL SOUNDS DO YOU LOVE?

1. The sweet and solemn sound
Of Sabbath worshippers.

W. C. BRYANT.

2. The _bugle_, silver-tipp'd,
That with a breath, long-drawn, and slow-expiring,
Sends forth that strain, which, echoing through the wilds,
Tells of a loved one's glad return.

SOUTHEY.

3. The voice of _waters_, and the sheen
Of silver _fountains_ leaping to the sea.

N. P. WILLIS.

4. The _humbee_ singing
Drowsily among the flowers,
Sleepily, sleepily,
In noontide swayeth he,
Half balanced on a slender stalk.

J. R. LOWELL.

5. _One voice_, in its low, musical depth,
More dear and thrilling than the crowds' applause;
Even as the far-off murmur of the surge,
Heard at hush'd eve, is sweeter than the homage
Of waves tumultuous, dashing at your feet.

MRS. ELLET.

6. _Small voices_, and an old _guitar_,
Winning their way to an unguarded heart.

ROGERS--_Italy_.

7. When soft music comes to thine ear, as thou liest at night, thine
eyes half closed in sleep, and thy soul as a stream flowing at
pleasant sounds. It is like the rising breeze that whirls at
first the thistle's beard, then flies dark-shadowy over the grass.

OSSIAN.

8. Kissing cymbals making merry din.

KEATS.

9. _Merry cricket_, twittering thing!
How you love to hear it sing!
Chirping tenant, child of mirth,
Minstrel of the poor man's hearth.

ELIZA COOK.

10. The wild enchanting _horn_!
Whose music up the deep and dewy air,
Swells to the clouds, and calls on echo there,
Till a new melody is born.

GRENVILLE MELLEN.

11. _Soft Lydian airs
Married to immortal verse_;
Such as meeting soul may pierce,
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked with sweetness long drawn out,
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running,
Untwisting all the cords that tie
The hidden soul of harmony.

MILTON--L'Allegro.

12. Words to the witches in Macbeth unknown;
_Hydraulics_, _hydrostatics_, and _pneumatics_,
_Chlorine_, and _iodine_, and _ærostatics_.

HALLECK.

13. The light _guitar_;
Its holiest time the evening star,
When liquid voices echo far.

J. G. PERCIVAL.

14. _Cataracts_ that blow their trumpets from the steep!

WORDSWORTH.

15. Through your very heart it thrilleth,
When from crimson-threaded lips
Silver-treble _laughter_ trilleth.

TENNYSON.

16. The _cricket's_ chirp, and the answer shrill
Of the gauze-winged _katydid_.

J. R. DRAKE.

17. Naught as the music of _praise_ and _prayer_
Is half so sweet.

BOWRING.

18. _Notes heard far off_; so far, as but to seem
Like the faint exquisite music of a dream.

MOORE.

19. A solemn _dirge_; now swelling high
In lofty strains, and now in cadence soft,
Seeming to die away upon the ear;
Then swelling loud again, reaching the skies,
As if to mingle with the music there.

MRS. DANA.

20. _Distance-mellow'd song_,
From bowers of merriment.

SOUTHEY.

21. The melancholy strain of that sad _bird_
Who sounds at night the warning note, that shuts
The delicate young flowers.

W. G. SIMMS.

22. The glad voice, the laughing voice of _streams_,
And the low cadence of the silvery _sea_.

MRS. HEMANS.

23. _Old songs_ of love and sorrow.

MARY HOWITT.

24. The lively air
When love enlists the _serenader's_ skill.

MRS. DANA.

25. The musical confusion
Of _hounds_ and _echo_ in conjunction.

_Midsummer Night's Dream._

26. When o'er the clear still water swells
The music of the _Sabbath bells_.

W. C. BRYANT.

27. A deep and thrilling _song_,
Which seems with piercing melody to reach
The soul, and in mysterious union
Blend with all thoughts of gentleness and love.

SOUTHEY.

28. Ever wakeful _echo_;
The nymph of sportive mockery, that still
Hides behind every rock and every dell,
And softly glides, unseen, from hill to hill;
No sound doth rise but mimic it she will.

THEODORE FAY.

29. The sounding _Viol_;
When eyes with speaking glances,
Kindle high with pleasure,
As rings the well-known strain;
With easy gliding motion,
involved in graceful fancies,
Of light uncertain measure,
Responds the fairy train.

J. G. PERCIVAL.

30. Low _whisperings in boats_,
As they shoot through the moonlight, with drippings
of oars.

MOORE.

31. The _hunter's shout_,
When clanging _horns_ swell their sweet winding notes,
The _pack wide-opening_ on the trembling air
With various melody.

SOMERVILLE--_The Chace._

32. The sounds awaken'd there
In the _Pine leaves_ fine and small,
Soft and sweetly musical,
By the fingers of the air.

J. G. WHITTIER.

33. The song of _spirits_ that will sometimes sail
Close to the ear, a deep, delicious stream,
Then sweep away, and die with a low wail.

CROLY--_Angel of the World._

34. The roar
Of _ocean's_ everlasting surges,
Tumbling upon the beach's hard-beat floor,
Or sliding backward to the shore,
To meet the landward wave, and slowly plunge once more.

J. R. LOWELL.

35. The _rivulet_, which
Sending glad sounds, and tripping o'er its bed
Of pebbly sands, or leaping down the rocks,
Seems, with continuous laughter, to rejoice
In its own being.

W. C. BRYANT.

36. _A damsel singing to herself_
_A song of love by snatches_; breaking off
If but a flower, an insect on the wing
Please for an instant, then as carelessly
The strain resuming.

ROGERS--_Italy._

37. The sound of the _church-going bell_,
When it bursts on the ear with its full, rich swell.

MISS M. DAVIDSON.

38. The brisk, awakening _viol_,
Whose sweet, entrancing voice you love the best.

COLLINS.

39. The _blackbird's merry chant_. Bold plunderer!
How sweet to hear his mellow burst of song
Float from his watch-place on the mossy tree,
Close at the cornfield's edge!

J. MCLELLAN.

40. The sound of music at even-fall,
Filling the heart
With a flow of thought and feeling sweet,
When _lips that we love_ breathe forth the song.

LOUISA P. SMITH.

41. The harp Eolian;
Faintly at first it begins, scarce heard, and gentle its rising,
Low as the softest breath that passes at summer evening;
Then, as it swells and mounts up, the thrilling melody deepens,
Till a mightier, holier virtue comes with its powerful tone.

SOUTHEY.

42. The chirp of _birds_, blithe _voices_, lowing _kine_,
The dash of _waters_, _reed_, or rustic _pipe_,
Blent with the dulcet, distance-mellow'd _bell_.

HILLHOUSE.

43. A _song of love and jollitye_,
To drive away dull melancholy.

SPENSER.

44. _Preluding low_, soft notes that faint and tremble,
Swelling, awakening, dying, plaining deep;
While such sensations in the soul assemble,
As make it pleasant to the eyes to weep.

MRS. MARIA BROOKS.

45. _Song of maids_ beneath the moon,
With fairy _laughter_ blent.

W. C. BRYANT.

46. To hear the glorious swell
Of chanted psalm and prayer,
And the deep _organ's_ bursting heart
Throb through the shivering air.

J. R. LOWELL.

47. A noise like of a _hidden brook_,
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

COLERIDGE.

48. Approaching _trumpets_, that with quavering start,
On the smooth wind come dancing to the heart.

LEIGH HUNT--_Rimini_.

49. A _laugh_ full of life, without any control
But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from the soul.

MOORE--_Lalla Rookh_.

50. _Fifes_, _cornets_, _drums_,
That rouse the sleepy soul to arms, and bold
Heroic deeds.

SOMERVILLE--_The Chace_.

51. A _little song_,
Neither sad nor very long.

BARRY CORNWALL.

52. A voice of music in the rustling leaves,
When the green boughs are hung with living lutes,
Whose strings will only vibrate to His hand
Who made them.

MISS H. F. GOULD.

53. The drums beat in the mornin', afore the scriech o' day,
And the wee, wee fifes piped loud and shrill, while yet the
morn is gray.

MOTHERWELL.

54. The unseen _hawk_
_Whistling_ to clouds, and sky-born streams.

WORDSWORTH.

55. The low, sweet _shell_,
By whose far music shall thy soul be haunted.

MISS LANDON.

56. The _trumpet's_ war-note proud,
The _trampling_ and the _hum_!

MACAULAY.

57. A pattering sound
Of ripen'd _acorns_, rustling to the ground
Through the crisp, wither'd leaves.

MRS. WHITMAN.

58. _Birds_ and _brooks_ from leafy dells,
Chiming forth unwearied canticles.

WORDSWORTH.

59. When the _organ peal_, loud rolling, meets
The halleluiahs of the _choir_; sublime,
A thousand notes symphoniously ascend,
As if the whole were one; suspended high
In air, soaring heavenward, afar they float,
Wafting glad tidings to the sick man's couch.

GRAHAME--_The Sabbath_.

60. Tinklings of a vigilant guitar,
Of sleepless lover to a wakeful mistress.

BYRON.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLOWER?

I would I had some flowers of the Spring that might
Become your time of day; and yours;--and yours.

_Winter's Tale._

I send thee flowers, oh dearest, and I deem
That from their petals thou wilt hear sweet words,
Whose music, sweeter than the voice of birds,
When breathed to thee alone, perchance may seem
All eloquent of feelings unexpress'd.

PARK BENJAMIN.

A garland lay him by, made by himself
Of many several flowers,
Stuck in that mystic order that the rareness
Delighted me.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLOWER?

1. The _sensitive plant_, the earliest
Up-gathered unto the bosom of rest,
A sweet child, weary of its delight,
The feeblest, and yet the favorite,
Cradled within the embrace of night.

SHELLEY.

2. The _jasmine_;
Pride of Carolina's early Spring!
Fairy land
Is not more beautiful, than when, full blown,
The jasmine, gilt by the Creator's hand,
Hangs all around us.

MRS. DANA.

3. _Hyacinths_, ringing their soft bells
To call the bees from the anemonies,
Jealous of their bright rivals' glowing wealth.

MISS LANDON.

4. _Primroses_,
Which, when the lengthen'd shadows fall
Like soft dreams o'er the earth,
And all around a sabbath reigns
As at creation's birth,
Burst the magic bands of clay,
And greet with smiles the sun's last ray.

MISS M. E. LEE.

5. The chaste _camelia's_ pure and spotless bloom,
That boasts no fragrance, and conceals no thorn.

W. ROSCOE.

6. The light _snowdrops_, which, starting from their cells,
Hang each pagoda with their silver bells.

O. W. HOLMES.

7. A _tulip_, which Titania may have chosen
For rest or revelry, to feast or doze in.

MISS MOISE.

8. _Roses_,
Beautiful each, but different all;
One with that pure but crimson flush,
That marks a maiden's first love blush;
_One_,
Pale as the snow of the funeral stone;
_Another_, rich as the damask die
Of a monarch's purple drapery;
And _one_ hath leaves like the leaves of gold
Worked on that drapery's royal fold.

MISS LANDON.

9. The _hare-bell_ on the heath,
The forest tree beneath,
Which springs like elfin dweller of the wild;
Light as a breeze astir
Stemm'd with the gossamer,
Soft as the blue eyes of a poet's child.

MARY HOWITT.

10. Thou sweet _daisy_, common-place
Of nature, with that homely face,
And yet, with something of a grace,
Which love makes for thee!

WORDSWORTH.

11. The good old _passion-flower_!
It bringeth to thy mind
The young days of the Christian church,
Dim ages left behind.

MARY HOWITT.

12. _Sweet peas_ on tiptoe for a flight,
With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,
And taper fingers, catching at all things,
To bind them round about with tiny rings.

KEATS.

13. _Heart's ease._ One could look for half a day
Upon this flower, and shape in fancy out
Full twenty different tales of love and sorrow,
That gave this gentle name.

MARY HOWITT.

14. The humble _rosemary_,
Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed
To scent the dead.

MOORE.

15. The _primrose_, all bepearl'd with dew,
So yellow, green, and richly too.
Ask you why the stalk is weak,
And bending, yet it doth not break?
I must tell you these discover
What doubts and fears are in a lover.

CAREW.

16. Those greater far than all
Our blessed Lord did see,
The _lilies_ beautiful, which grew
In the fields of Galilee!

MARY HOWITT.

17. A little flower, which
Before the bolt of Cupid fell milk-white,
Now purple with love's wound,
And maidens call it _love-in-idleness_.

_Midsummer Night's Dream._

18. The _lilac_, various in array--now white,
Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set
With purple spikes pyramidal, as if,
Studious of ornament, yet unresolved
Which hue she most approved, she chose them all.

COWPER.

19. _King-cup_, with its canary hue;
'Twas from this goblet Psyche drew
The nectar for her butterflies.

MISS MOISE.

20. _Jasmine_, with her pale stars shining through
The myrtle darkness of her leaf's green hue.

MRS. NORTON.

21. The _water-lilies_, that glide so pale,
As if with constant care
Of the treasures which they bear;
For those ivory vases hold
Each a sunny gift of gold.

MISS LANDON.

22. _Daffodils_,
That come before the swallow dares,
And take the winds of March with beauty.

_Winter's Tale._

23. Sweet _wild-flowers_, that hold their quiet talk
Upon the uncultured green.

MRS. GILMAN.

24. The virgin _lilies_ in their white,
Clad but with the lawn of almost naked white.

COWLEY.

25. The _hyacinth_, for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue.

BURNS.

26. Blue _pelloret_, from purple leaves up-slanting
A modest gaze, like eyes of a young maiden,
Shining beneath dropp'd lids, the evening of her wedding.

DRAKE.

27. A _tulip_ just open'd, offering to hold
A butterfly gaudy and gay,
Or rocking its cradle of crimson and gold,
Where the careless young slumberer lay.

MISS GOULD.

28. She comes--the first, the fairest thing
That heaven upon the earth doth fling,
Ere winter's star has set;
She dwells behind her leafy screen,
And gives as angels give--unseen,--
The _violet_!

BARRY CORNWALL.

29. The rich _magnolia_,
High priestess of the flowers, whose censer fills
The air.

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

30. CEREUS,
Who wastes on night's dull eye a blaze of charms.

DARWIN.

31. The _scarlet creeper's_ bloom,
When 'midst her leaves the humbird's varying dyes
Sparkle like half-seen fairy eyes.

DR. S. H. DICKSON.

32. You love the sweet GERANIUM'S smell,
Its scollop'd leaves, and crimson flower;
Of days long passed it seems to tell,
And memory owns its magic power.

MISS MARIA JAMES.

33. The _wayside weed_ of homeliest hue,
Looking erect up to the golden blue.
For thus it speaketh to the thinking mind--
"O'erlook me not: I for a purpose grew;
On us one sunshine falls!"

THOMAS MILLER.

34. The last _violet_
That sheds its fragrance on the chill, damp air
Of a November morn, like love in death.

LADY FLORA HASTINGS.

35. The _peony_, with drooping head,
Which blows a transient hour,
And gently shaken in the breeze,
Descends a crimson shower.

MISS MARIA JAMES.

36. The _blue fleur-de-lis_, in the warm sunlight shining,
As if grains of gold in its petals were set.

MARY HOWITT.

37. The pale and delicate _narcissus_' flowers,
Bending so languidly, as still they found
In the pure wave a love and destiny.

MISS LANDON.

38. The _violet's_ azure eye,
Which gazes on the sky,
Until its hue grows like what it beholds.

SHELLEY.

39. The _evening primrose_,
O'er which the wind might gladly take a pleasant sleep,
But that 'tis ever startled by the leap
Of buds into fresh flowers.

KEATS.

40. The _clematis_, all graceful and fair;
You may set it like pearls in the folds of your hair.

MRS. A. M. WELLS.

41. The _tulip_,
Whose passionate leaves with their ruby glow
Hide the heart that is burning and black below.

MISS LANDON.

42. The _almond_, though its branch is sere,
With myriad blossoms beautiful;
As pink, as is the shell's inside.

MARY HOWITT.

43. Lilies for a bridal bed,
Roses for a matron's head,
Violets for a maiden dead--
_Pansies_ let thy flower be.

SHELLEY.

44. The _barberry-bush_,
Whose yellow blossoms hang,
As when a child by grassy lane
Along you lightly sprang.

MRS. GILMAN.

45. The shower
Wets not a rose that buds in beauty's bower
One half so lovely as the _sweet brier_;
----for it grows along
The poor man's pathway, by the poor man's door.

BRAINERD.

46. The low dwarf _acacia_, that droops as it grows,
And the leaves, as you gather them, tremble and close.

MRS. A. M. WELLS.

47. The _cowslip_, that, bending
With its golden bells,
Of each glad hour's ending,
With a sweet chime tells.

MISS LANDON.

48. The beautiful _clover_, so round and red;
There is not a thing in twenty,
That lifts in the morning so sweet a head,
Above its leaves on its earthly bed,
With so many horns of plenty.

MISS H. F. GOULD.

49. A _lily flower_,
The old Egyptian's emblematic mark
Of joy immortal, and of pure affection.

WORDSWORTH.

50. _Mignionette_ the little nun,
In meekness shedding soft perfume.

MISS P. MOISE.

51. The _heliotrope_, whose gray and heavy wreath
Mimics the orchard blossom's fruity breath.

MRS. NORTON.

52. The timid _jasmine-buds_, that keep
Their odors to themselves all day,
But when the sunlight dies away,
Let the delicious secret out.

MOORE.

53. _Violets_ dim,
but sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
or Cytherea's breath.

_Winter's Tale._

54. _Fox-glove_, whose purple vest conceals
Its hollow heart.

MISS MOISE.

55. The _housatonia cerulea_,
Its snowy circle ray'd
With crosslets, bending its pearly whiteness round,
While the spreading lips are bound
With such a mellow shade,
As in the vaulted blue
Deepens at midnight, or grows pale
When mantled in the full moon's slender veil.

PERCIVAL.

56. The _lily_,
Imperial beauty, fair unrivall'd one!
What flower of earth has honor high as thine,
To find thy name on _His_ unsullied lips
Whose eye was light from heaven!

MISS H. F. GOULD.

57. The little _windflower_, whose just open'd eye
Is blue as the Spring heaven it gazes at;
Startling the loiterer in naked paths
With unexpected beauty.

W. C. BRYANT.

58. The trailing _arbutus_, shrouding its grace,
Till fragrance bewrayeth its hiding-place.

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

59. The _woodbine wild_,
That loves to hang on barren boughs remote
Her wreaths of flowery perfume.

W. MASON--_The English Garden_.

60. The Naiad-like _lily of the vale_,
Whom youth makes so fair and passion so pale,
That the light of its tremulous bells is seen
Through their pavilions of tender green.

SHELLEY.

WHAT GRATIFIES YOUR TASTE OR YOUR AFFECTIONS?

"We like not most what most is twin to self,
"But that which best supplies the void within."

WHAT GRATIFIES YOUR TASTE, OR YOUR AFFECTIONS?

1. To walk in _choice gardens_,
And from variety of curious flowers
Contemplate nature's workmanship and wonders.

MASSINGER.

2. You love to wander by old _ocean's_ side,
And hold communion with its sullen tide,
To climb the _mountain's_ everlasting wall,
And linger where the _thunder-waters_ fall.

SPRAGUE.

3. _Happy children at their play_,
Whose hearts run over into song.

J. R. LOWELL.

4. _Dogs_ of grave demeanor,
All meekness, gentleness, though large of limb.

ROGERS--_Italy_.

5. _Old legends_ of the monkish page,
Traditions of the saint and sage,
Tales that have the rime of age
And character of eld.

LONGFELLOW.

6. GENTLEMAN.-- A _lock_, a _leaf_,
That some dear girl has given;
Frail record of an hour, as brief
As sunset clouds in heaven,
But spreading purple twilight still
High over memory's shadow'd hill.

O. W. HOLMES.

6. LADY.--There's little that you care for now,
Except a simple _wedding ring_.

THOMAS MILLER.

7. _Fruits that have just begun
To flush_ on the side that is next the sun.

H. F. GOULD.

8. GENTLEMAN.--You do wish that you could be
A _sailor_, on the rolling sea;
In the shadow of the sails
You would ride and rock all day,
Going whither blow the gales,
As you've heard the seamen say.