The Old Year’s gone away To nothingness and night: We cannot find him all the day Nor hear him in the night: He left no footstep, mark or place

Dear brother robin this comes from… With our kind love and could Gip… Though but a dog he’d have his lov… For still he knows and by your cor… The moment he comes in he lyes him…

With careful step to keep his bala… He reels on warily along the stree… Slabbering at mouth and with a sta… Mutters an angry look at all he me… Bumptious and vain and proud he sh…

The infant april joins the spring And views its watery skye As youngling linnet trys its wing And fears at first to flye With timid step she ventures on

He plays with other boys when work… But feels too clumsy and too stiff… Yet where there’s mischief he can… The first to join and last [to run… What’s said or done he never hears…

The wild duck startles like a sudd… And heron slow as if it might be c… The flopping crows on weary wings… And grey beard jackdaws noising as… The crowds of starnels whizz and h…

O the evening’s for the fair, bonn… To meet the cooler air and walk an… With the dark dishevelled hair, Bonny lassie O! The bloom’s on the brere, bonny la…

And will she leave the lowly clown… For silk and satins gay, Her woollen aprons and drab gowns For lady’s cold array? And will she leave the wild hedge…

Daughter of pastoral smells and si… And sultry days and dewy nights July resumes her yearly place Wi her milking maiden face Ruddy and tand yet sweet to view

These children of the sun which su… As pastoral minstrels in her merry… Pipe rustic ballads upon busy wing… And glad the cotters’ quiet toils… The white—nosed bee that bores its…

When shall I see the white—thorn… And yellowhammers gathering the dr… By the dyke side, on stilly moor o… Feathered with love and nature’s g… Rude is the tent this architect in…

The nodding oxeye bends before the… The woodbine quakes lest boys thei… And prickly dogrose spite of its a… Can’t dare the blossom—seeking han… While thistles wear their heavy kn…

The crow sat on the willow tree A—lifting up his wings, And glossy was his coat to see, And loud the ploughman sings, 'I love my love because I know

What a night! The wind howls, his… To howl more loud, while the snow… Incessant batter at the window pan… Making our comfort feel as sweet a… And in the morning, when the tempe…