Part 5

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.