II. THE SPRING.

The purgatory pass'd — the stalactites

That fring'd the cliffs fell crashing to the earth;

With clamor shrill the wild geese skimm'd the heights,

In airy navies sailing to the north;

The bluebirds chirrup'd in the naked woods,

The water-willows donn'd their downy blooms,

The trim swamp-maple blush'd with ruddy buds,

The forest-ash hung out its sable plumes.

The shad-bush gleam'd a wreath of purest snow,

The white stars of the bloodroot peep'd from folds

Of rotting leaves, and in the meadows low

Shone saffron spots, the gay marsh-marigolds.

May made all green, and on the fifth of June

A sail appeared, with succor none too soon.