FROM THE SPANISH OF VILLEGAS.

‘ Tis sweet, in the green Spring,

To gaze upon the wakening fields around;

Birds in the thicket sing,

Winds whisper, waters prattle from the ground;

A thousand odours rise,

Breathed up from blossoms of a thousand dyes.

Shadowy, and close, and cool,

The pine and poplar keep their quiet nook;

For ever fresh and full,

Shines, at their feet, the thirst-inviting brook;

And the soft herbage seems

Spread for a place of banquets and of dreams.

Thou, who alone art fair,

And whom alone I love, art far away.

Unless thy smile be there,

It makes me sad to see the earth so gay;

I care not if the train

Of leaves, and flowers, and zephyrs go again.