WINTER-THOUGHT.

The wind-swayed daisies, that on every side

Throng the wide fields in whispering companies,

Serene and gently smiling like the eyes

Of tender children long beatified,

The delicate thought-wrapped buttercups that glide

Like sparks of fire above the wavering grass,

And swing and toss with all the airs that pass,

Yet seem so peaceful, so preoccupied;

These are the emblems of pure pleasures flown,

I scarce can think of pleasure without these.

Even to dream of them is to disown

The cold forlorn midwinter reveries,

Lulled with the perfume of old hopes new-blown,

No longer dreams, but dear realities.