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Article THE WORK OF NATURE IN THE MONTHS. ← Page 3 of 7 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Work Of Nature In The Months.
Let us , then , whilst living for that glorious consummation , make , as God Avould have us make , the best of this Avorld ' s beauties that He has given us , aud let us find a pure enjoyment hi those plentiful treasures that He has abundantly poured into Nature ' s lap , and in those jewelled delights with which he has so richly adorned the bosom of our Mother-Earth . Everywhere , then , do AVC find a profusion of bloom ,
for" The welcome flowers are blossoming , In joyous troops revealed ; They lift their dewy buds and bells In garden , mead , and field . They lurk in every sunless path Where forest children tread ; They dot like stars the sacred turf AVhich lies above the dead .
They sport with every playful wind That stirs the blooming trees , And laugh on every fragrant bush , All full of toiling bees ; From the green marge of lake and stream , Fresh vale and mountain sod , They look in gentle glory forth ,
The pure sweet flowers of God . " We love all Nature ' s works , hut oh I how Ave love the flowers ; and the more simple and unassuming they are , the more we love them . No delight that can fill the heart of the fond possessors of acres of flower-beds and house after house full of the treasures of the Tropicsno pride of the horticulturist who can SIIOAV variety of
, a IICAV some choice scion of his garden , no " eureka " -cry of the eager botanist who has discovered and made his OAVU some uni que specimen of his scientific classification will ever compare ivith the joy of the little heart when the sunny hours of spring-tide cover the emerald carpet of the meadoAV with the myriad blossoms of those friends of childhood —Buttercups ancl Daisies . Nor is the feeling quite extinguished yet ,
for" I never see a young hand hold The starry bunch of white and gold , But something warm aud fresh will start About the region of my heart . My smile expires into a sigh ; I feel a struggling in the eye , 'Twixt humid drop and sparkling ray , Till rolling tears have won their way ; For soul and brain will travel back Through Memory ' s chequered mazes , To days when I but trod Life ' s track For ' Buttercups and Daisies . '
" Tell me , ye men of wisdom rare , Of sober speech and silver hair ; Who carry counsel , wise and sage , With all the gravity of age : Oh ! say , do ye not like to hear The accents ringing in your ear , When sportive urchins laugh and shout , Tossing those precious flowers about , Springing with bold aud gleesome bound , Proclaiming joy that crazes ; And chorusing the magic sound Of ' Buttercups and Daisies ' ?
" Are there , I ask , beneath the sky Blossoms that knit so strong a tie With Childhood ' s love ? Can any please Or light the infant eye like these « No , no ; there 's not a bud on earth , Of richest tint or warmest birth .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Work Of Nature In The Months.
Let us , then , whilst living for that glorious consummation , make , as God Avould have us make , the best of this Avorld ' s beauties that He has given us , aud let us find a pure enjoyment hi those plentiful treasures that He has abundantly poured into Nature ' s lap , and in those jewelled delights with which he has so richly adorned the bosom of our Mother-Earth . Everywhere , then , do AVC find a profusion of bloom ,
for" The welcome flowers are blossoming , In joyous troops revealed ; They lift their dewy buds and bells In garden , mead , and field . They lurk in every sunless path Where forest children tread ; They dot like stars the sacred turf AVhich lies above the dead .
They sport with every playful wind That stirs the blooming trees , And laugh on every fragrant bush , All full of toiling bees ; From the green marge of lake and stream , Fresh vale and mountain sod , They look in gentle glory forth ,
The pure sweet flowers of God . " We love all Nature ' s works , hut oh I how Ave love the flowers ; and the more simple and unassuming they are , the more we love them . No delight that can fill the heart of the fond possessors of acres of flower-beds and house after house full of the treasures of the Tropicsno pride of the horticulturist who can SIIOAV variety of
, a IICAV some choice scion of his garden , no " eureka " -cry of the eager botanist who has discovered and made his OAVU some uni que specimen of his scientific classification will ever compare ivith the joy of the little heart when the sunny hours of spring-tide cover the emerald carpet of the meadoAV with the myriad blossoms of those friends of childhood —Buttercups ancl Daisies . Nor is the feeling quite extinguished yet ,
for" I never see a young hand hold The starry bunch of white and gold , But something warm aud fresh will start About the region of my heart . My smile expires into a sigh ; I feel a struggling in the eye , 'Twixt humid drop and sparkling ray , Till rolling tears have won their way ; For soul and brain will travel back Through Memory ' s chequered mazes , To days when I but trod Life ' s track For ' Buttercups and Daisies . '
" Tell me , ye men of wisdom rare , Of sober speech and silver hair ; Who carry counsel , wise and sage , With all the gravity of age : Oh ! say , do ye not like to hear The accents ringing in your ear , When sportive urchins laugh and shout , Tossing those precious flowers about , Springing with bold aud gleesome bound , Proclaiming joy that crazes ; And chorusing the magic sound Of ' Buttercups and Daisies ' ?
" Are there , I ask , beneath the sky Blossoms that knit so strong a tie With Childhood ' s love ? Can any please Or light the infant eye like these « No , no ; there 's not a bud on earth , Of richest tint or warmest birth .