CORINNA'S GOING A MAYING.

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Made green, and trimmed with trees!—see how
Devotion gives each house a bough

Or branch!-each porch, each door, ere this
An ark, a tabernacle is,

Made up of whitehorn neatly interwove,

As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Can such delights be in the street

And open fields, and we not see 't?

Come, we'll abroad, and let's obey
The proclamation made for May,

And sin no more, as we have done by staying,
But, my Corinna! come, let's go a Maying.

There's not a budding boy or girl this day
But is got up and gone to bring in May.

A deal of youth ere this has come
Back, and with whitehorn laden home:

Some have despatched their cakes and cream

Before that we have ceased to dream;

And some have wept, and wooed, and plighted troth.

And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth;

Many a green gown has been given;

Many a kiss, both odd and even;

Many a glance, too, has been sent
From out the eye, love's firmament;

Many a jest told of the key's betraying

This night, and locks picked;-yet we're not a Maying!

Come, let us go, while we are in our prime,

And take the harmless folly of the time;
We shall grow old apace and die
Before we know our liberty.

Our life is short, and our days run
As fast away as does the sun:
And as a vapor, or a drop of rain,
Once lost, can ne'er be found again,
So when or you or I are made

A fable, song, or fleeting shade,

All love, all liking, all delight,

Lies drowned with us in endless night.

Then while time serves, and we are but decaying,

Come, my Corinna! come, let's go a Maying.

HERRICK.

THE PRIMROSE.

THE PRIMROSE.

WELCOME, pale primrose! starting up between

Dead matted leaves of ash and oak, that strew The every lawn, the wood, and spinny through, 'Mid creeping moss and ivy's darker green;

How much thy presence beautifies the ground, How sweet thy modest, unaffected pride,

Glows on the sunny bank, and wood's warm side. And when thy fairy flowers in groups are found, The schoolboy roams enchantedly along,

Plucking the fairest with a rude delight; While the meek shepherd stops his simple song, To gaze a moment on the pleasing sight; O'erjoyed to see the flowers that truly bring The welcome news of sweet returning Spring.

CLARE.

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A TRIBUTE TO MAY.

(FROM THE GERMAN OF CONRAD OF KIRCHBERG.)

MAY, Sweet May, again is come,—
May that frees the land from gloom;
Children, children! up and see
All her stores of jollity.

On the laughing hedgerow's side

She hath spread her treasures wide;
She is in the greenwood shade,

Where the nightingale hath made
Every branch and every tree

Ring with her sweet melody:

Hill and dale are May's own treasures,
Youths, rejoice! In sportive measures

Sing ye! join the chorus gay!
Hail this merry, merry May!

Up! then, children! we will go,
Where the blooming roses grow;

In a joyful company,

We the bursting flowers will see;
Up, your festal dress prepare!

Where gay hearts are meeting, there

THE WOODLAND IN SPRING.

May hath pleasures most inviting,
Heart, and sight, and ear, delighting.

Listen to the bird's sweet song,
Hark! how soft it floats along.

Courtly dames! our pleasure share;
Never saw I May so fair:

Therefore, dancing will we go,

Youths, rejoice! the flow'rets blow!
Sing ye! join the chorus gay!

Hail this merry, merry May!

Roscoe.

THE WOODLAND IN SPRING.

E'EN in the spring and play-time of the year,

That calls th' unwonted villager abroad
With all her little ones, a sportive train,
To gather kingcups in the yellow mead,
And prink their hair with daisies, or to pick
A cheap but wholesome salad from the brook:
These shades are all my own. The timorous hare,
Grown so familiar with her frequent guest,
Scarce shuns me; and the stock-dove, unalarmed,

Sits cooing in the pine-tree, nor suspends

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