II. THE SPRING.

The purgatory pass'd—the stalactites That fring'd the cliffs fell crashing to the earth; With clamor shrill the wild geese skimm'd the heights, In airy navies sailing to the north; The bluebirds chirrup'd in the naked woods, The water-willows donn'd their downy blooms, The trim swamp-maple blush'd with ruddy buds, The forest-ash hung out its sable plumes.

The shad-bush gleam'd a wreath of purest snow, The white stars of the bloodroot peep'd from folds Of rotting leaves, and in the meadows low Shone saffron spots, the gay marsh-marigolds. May made all green, and on the fifth of June A sail appeared, with succor none too soon.