I saw the haggard dreadfulness

Of dim old age and death.

[Pg 10]

[Pg 10]

SPRING ON THE RIVER.

O sun, shine hot on the river;

For the ice is turning an ashen hue,

And the still bright water is looking through,

And the myriad streams are greeting you

With a ballad of life to the giver,

From forest and field and sunny town,

Meeting and running and tripping down,

With laughter and song to the river.

Oh! the din on the boats by the river;

The barges are ringing while day avails,

With sound of hewing and hammering nails,

Planing and painting and swinging pails,

All day in their shrill endeavour;

For the waters brim over their wintry cup,

And the grinding ice is breaking up,

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