PICTURES.

The full-orbed Paschal moon; dark shadows flung

On the brown Lenten earth; tall spectral trees

Stand in their huge and naked strength erect,

And stretch wild arms towards the gleaming sky.

A motionless girl-figure, face upraised

In the strong moonlight, cold and passionless.

A proud spring sunset; opal-tinted sky,

Save where the western purple, pale and faint

With longing for her fickle Love,— content

Had merged herself into his burning red.

A fair young maiden, clad in velvet robe

Of sombre green, stands in the golden glow,

One hand held up to shade her dazzled eyes,

A bunch of white Narcissus at her throat.

November's day, dark, leaden, lowering,—

Grey purple shadows fading on the hills;

Dreary and desolate the far expanse

And gloomy sameness of the open plain.

A peasant woman, in white wimpled hood,

White vest, and scarlet petticoat, surveys

The meadow, with rough hands crossed on her breast.

A shining, shimmering, gracious, golden day;

The sated summer's all-pervading hush;

Warm luscious tints, glowing in earth and sky.

On a low mossy bank, a little child,

His golden curls twined in the reedy grass,

Clutching within his tear-stained feverish hands

The yellow blossoms of the Celandine,

Sobs out his heart in passionate childish grief.