"Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,--
The last of life, for which the first was made."


THE VOICE OF SPRING.

"The Voice of Spring," by Felicia Hemans (1749-1835), becomes
attractive as years go on. The line in this poem that captivated my
youthful fancy was:

"The larch has hung all his tassels forth,"

The delight with which trees hang out their new little tassels every
year is one of the charms of "the pine family." John Burroughs sent us
down a tiny hemlock, that grew in our window-box at school for five
years, and every spring it was a new joy on account of the fine, tender
tassels. Mrs. Hemans had a vivid imagination backed up by an abundant
information.

I come, I come! ye have called me long;
I come o'er the mountains, with light and song.
Ye may trace my step o'er the waking earth
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves opening as I pass.

I have breathed on the South, and the chestnut-flowers
By thousands have burst from the forest bowers,
And the ancient graves and the fallen fanes