LINES RIttEN At A SMALL DIStANCE FROM MY  BY MY LIttLE BOY tO tO rong>

    It is t mild day of March:

    Eace ser than before,

    t sings from tall larch

    t stands beside our door.

    the air,

    o yield

    to trees, and mountains bare,

    And grass in the green ?eld.

    My Sister! (tis a wish of mine)

    No our morning meal is done,

    Make e, your morning task resign;

    Come forthe sun.

    Edh you, and pray,

    Put on h speed your woodland dress,

    And bring no book, for this one day

    ell give to idleness.

    No joyless forms se

    Our living Calendar:

    e from to-day, my friend, e

    the year.

    Love, noh.

    From  to  is stealing,

    From earto man, from man to earth,

    --It is the hour of feeling.

    One moment now may give us more

    ty years of reason;

    Our minds s every pore

    t of the season.

    Some silent laws our s may make,

    hey shall long obey;

    e for to come may take

    Our temper from to-day.

    And from t rolls

    About, below, above;

    ell frame the measure of our souls,

    tuned to love.

    ter! come, I pray,

    it on your woodland dress,

    And bring no book; for this one day

    ell give to idleness.