In homely phrase we oft are told 'Tis early birds that catch the worms; But certainly that Spring bird there Don't half believe the aforesaid terms. He's sorry that he hither flew, In hopes a forward March to find, And towards warm climates, whence he came, To backward march is sore inclined. Lured by one ray of sunlight, he Flew northward to our land of snow; And now, with frozen toes, he stands On frozen earth:--the worms--below! Tu whit! whit! whit! he tries in vain To whistle in a cheerful way; He feels he's badly sold, and that-- He came _too early_ in the day. I sprinkle seed and crumbs around; He quickly flies and famished eats:-- He would have starved to death had he Relied on proverb-making cheats. * * * * * Of the same up-Springings, in higher vein, we have the following:-- APRIL. BY ED. SPRAGUE RAND. Now with the whistling rush of stormy winds, 'Mid weeping skies and smiling, sunny hours, Comes the young Spring, and scatters, from the pines, O'er the brown--woodland soft, balsamic showers. Wake, azure squirrel cups, on grassy hills! Peep forth, blue violets, upon the heath! The epigraea from the withered leaves Sends out the greeting of her perfumed breath. Nodding anemones within the wood Shake off the winter's sleep, and haste to greet; Where in the autumn the blue asters stood, The saxifrage creeps out, with downy feet. Nature is waking! From a wreath of snow, Close by the garden walls, the snowdrop springs; And the air rings with tender melodies, Where thro' the dark firs flash the bluebird's wings. A few days hence, and o'er the distant hills A tender robe of verdure shall be spread, And life in myriad forms be manifest, Where all seemed desolate, and dark, and dead. E'en now, upon the sunny woodland slopes, The fair vanessa flits with downy wing; And in the marshes, with the night's approach, The merry hylas in full chorus sing. _Patience_ and _faith_, all will be bright again. Take from the present, for the future hours, The tendered promise. In the storm and rain, Remember suns shine brighter for the showers. To us, my countrymen, the lesson comes; Our night of winter dawns in brightest day; The storm is passing, and the rising sun Dispels our doubts, drives cloudy fears away. The sun of freedom, veiled in clouds too long, Sheds o'er our land its rays of quickening life; And liberty, our starry banner, waves, Proclaiming freedom mid the battle's strife. * * * * * STRIKING TURPENTINE.