He cared but little for this poor world’s pelf;

He shared his joys with every one who’d take,

And kept his sorrows strictly to himself.

IN FEBRUARY DAYS

Fair Nature, like the mother of a wayward child

Fair

Who needs must chide the offspring of her heart,

Disguiseth for a season all the sweet and mild

Maternal softness for an austere part.

And ’neath her frown the errant earth in winter seems

Prostrate to lie, and petulant of mood;

Restrained in icy fetters all the babbling streams,

Like naughty babes who’re learning to be good.

Then, in this second month, most motherlike again,

The frown assumed gives now and then a place

To soft indulgent glances, lessening the pain,

And hints of spring and pardon light her face.

A CHANGE OF AMBITION

Horatius at the bridge, and he

Horatius

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