SUNNY DAYS IN WINTER.

Summer is a glorious season

Warm, and bright, and pleasant;

But the Past is not a reason

To despise the Present.

So while health can climb the mountain,

And the log lights up the hall,

There are sunny days in Winter, after all!

Spring, no doubt, hath faded from us,

Maiden-like in charms;

Summer, too, with all her promise,

Perished in our arms.

But the memory of the vanished,

Whom our hearts recall,

Maketh sunny days in Winter, after all!

True, there's scarce a flower that bloometh,

All the best are dead;

But the wall-flower still perfumeth

Yonder garden-bed.

And the arbutus pearl-blossom'd

Hangs its coral ball —

There are sunny days in Winter, after all!

Summer trees are pretty,— very,

And love them well:

But this holly's glistening berry,

None of those excel.

While the fir can warm the landscape,

And the ivy clothes the wall,

There are sunny days in Winter, after all!

Sunny hours in every season

Wait the innocent —

Those who taste with love and reason

What their God hath sent.

Those who neither soar too highly,

Nor too lowly fall,

Feel the sunny days of Winter, after all!

Then, although our darling treasures

Vanish from the heart;

Then, although our once-loved pleasures

One by one depart;

Though the tomb looms in the distance,

And the mourning pall,

There is sunshine, and no Winter, after all!