(Before The Presidential Range.)

The sovereign mountains bask in sunset rays, The valleys rest in peace; The lingering clouds melt into twilight haze, The birds their warbling cease; The villagers' hour of welcome sleep is near, The cattle wander home, While wrapped in summer-scented atmosphere, Calm evening comes to roam With gentle pace Through star-lit space, Till moon-kissed Night holds all in her embrace, And Morning waits to show her dawn-flushed face.

ON SUGAR HILL.

TO F. B. F.

The lovely valleys nestling in the arms Of glorious mountain peaks; The purple tint of sunset hour, and charms The evening hour bespeaks; The monarch peak kissed by the rising sun, While clouds keep guard below; Grand, restful views, with foliage autumn-won, And Northern lights rare glow,-- Will e'er recall, In memory's hall, The happy days when on fair "Look-Off's" height, Sweet friendship cast her hues of golden light.

Hotel Look-Off, September, 1891.

AT FAIRFIELDS[A], WENHAM.

June, 1890.

Buttercups and daisies, Clover red and white, Ferns and crown-topped grasses Waving with delight, Dainty locust-blossoms, All that glad June yields, Welcome me with gladness To dearly-loved "Fairfields." But where's my happy collie dog, My Rosa?

The orioles sing greeting, The butterflies come near, The hens cease not their cackling, The horses neigh "I'm here," The cows nod "I have missed you," The pigs' eyes even shine, And from the red-house hearth-stone Comes pet cat Valentine. But where's my happy collie dog, My Rosa?

I miss her joyful greeting, Her handsome, high-bred face, Her vigorous, playful action In many a fair field chase. Not even lively Sancho Can fill for me her place.

O Rosa, happy Rosa, Gone where the good dogs go, Dost find such fields as "Fairfields," More love than we could show?

[A] "Fairfields" is but another name for "Porter Manse."

BLOSSOM-TIME.

Blossoms floating through the air, Bearing perfumes rich and rare, Free from trouble, toil, and care. Would I were a blossom!

Robins singing in the trees, Feeling every velvet breeze, Free from knowledge that bereaves. Would I were a robin!

Violets peaceful in the vale, Telling each its happy tale, Free from worldly noise and sale. Would I were a violet!

Blessed day of needed wealth, Full of Nature's perfect health, Fill me with thy power.

Then like blossoms I shall be, Wafting only purity, Or like robins, singing free 'Midst the deepening mystery, Or like violets, caring naught Only to reflect God's thought."

Porter Manse.

THE PRIMROSE.

Who tells you, sweet primrose, 'tis time to wake up After dreaming all day? Who changes so quickly your sombre green dress To the yellow one gay, And makes you the pet of the twilight's caress, And of poet's sweet lay? Who does, primrose, pray?

The primrose, secure on his emerald throne, Looked up quickly to say, "A dear lovely fairy glides down from his throne In the sun's golden ray, And with a sweet kiss opens wide all our eyes, Saying, 'Now is your day.' And lo! when he's gone we are filled with surprise At our wondrous array, So fresh and so gay. Do tell us the name of this fairy, I pray, Who gives of his beauty, and then hies away Without thanks, without pay. Does he linger your way?"

JOY, ALL JOY.

Lying on the new-mown hay, in a sightly field, On a summer day, With no care to weigh, Or a bitter thought to stay all that sense might yield-- What a joy to have alway!

Sky as blue as blue can be, perfect green all round, Birdlings on the wing Ere they pause to sing On the top of bush or tree, or on sweet hay-mound-- Restful joy in everything!

Butterflies just come to light, proud of freedom's hour, Cows in pastures near, Wondering why I'm here, Chipmunks now and then in sight, bees in clover-flower-- Added joy when these appear!

Happy children far and near climbing loads of hay, Running here and there. Farmer's work to share, Skipping, shouting loud and clear, full of daring play-- Children's joy! Joy everywhere!

AMONG THE PINES.

Far up in air the pines are murmuring Love songs sweet and low, With a rhythmic flow, Worthy of the glad sun's glow.

The airy clouds are o'er them bending, Captured by the sound Of such pleasure found In a playful daily round.

The birds pause in their flight to listen, Wondering all the while How the trees can smile Rooted so to earthly guile.

The hush of summer noon enwraps them Perfumed from below By the flowers that show They, too, murmuring love songs know.

All nature finds a joy in loving-- Oh, that I could hear Love songs once so dear Death has hushed forever here!

Intervale Woods, North Conway.