In the world to take its part;
The flower died in the bleak March air,
And the heart went on its way;
The violet's life was blooming there,
And melting the snows away.

_Caris Brooke._

[Illustration]

[Illustration]



VI.


Yet nature holds a gracious hand,
Her ancient ways pursuing;
And spreads the charms we loved of old,
To aid the heart's renewing.

Here her long crests of fringèd crag
Allure the skyward swallows;
Here the still dove's low love-note floats
Above her leafy hollows.

Here its calm strength her hillside rears,
From heaving slopes of clover;
Here still the pewit pipes and flits