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7%e A/isf's Year
The A //isſ's Y.ear
Origina/ and Selected Poems of the Months
By Margaret P James
Allustrated by
Arthur Quartley, Julia Zillon, 7 homas Moran,
5. W. Casilear, Alavia. Johnson, R. Swain Gifford,
9. R. Brevoort, James M. Hart, George H. Smillie,
A. M. Shurtleff, A. Bolton Jones, A. F. Bellows.
— dº —
Boston
DeWo/e, Fiske & Company
*** 1889
Copyright, 1882, by Warre Avo Srokes, New-York.

.
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CO AW T E M T.S.
THE NEW YEAR. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . & e s e e s is e º 'º a 7
© Poem by Margaret P. James.
JANUARY ..., ..... Arthur Quartley .................... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 JULY . . . . . . . . . . . . James M. Hart .............................. . . . . . . . 33
*
Poem, Selected . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I I Poem by Lucrèce. . . . . . . . . . . º e s e s e a e s e e º e e s e e s - e. e. e. 35
FEBRUARY . . . . . . }. W. Casilear........... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I 3 AUGUST . . . . . . . . . A. Bolton Jones..................................... 37
Poem by Margaret P. James. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I 5 Poem by Margaret P. James. . . . . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * * * * * 39
MARCH . . . . . . . . . . }. R. Brevoort...... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #7 SEPTEMBER . . . . . Thomas Moran ...................................... 4 I
Poem by Margaret P. James. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I9 Poem by Margaret P. James. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
APRIL . . . . . . . . . . . A. M. Shurtleſ......... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 I OCTOBER . . . . . . . . A'. Swain Gifford................................. . . 45
Poem by Mrs. Bloomfield Moore. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Poem by Margaret P. James. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
MAY . . . . . . . . . . . . . }ulia Dillore............ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 NOVEMBER . . . . . . George H. Smillie................................... 49
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Poem by Margaret P. James. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Poem, Selected . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 I
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JUNE ............ David Johnson....... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 DECEMBER . . . . . . 4. F. Bellows........................................ 53
Poem by Margaret P. James. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Poem by Margaret P. James. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
The Mezy Year.
By fireside light and the cheeriest glow,
All safe from cold-blowing winds and the snow,
Where well-loved friends gather gratefully near,
O give me a song to the new-reigning year!
And blend the present with days that are past—
Those golden days fled so softly and fast—
We treasure all in the long, Long Ago,
Tho' Time's best roses are strewn for us now.
And bid old heart-mates come hither to-day,
With memories tender-immortal are they.
How life's warm web hath its brilliant past,
E’en with its future more brightly forecast !
Yet find me a song to the new-reigning year !
Wouldst say it holds not a sigh, not a tear?
Will every sweet wish for thee, and for me,
Attend us each day on land or on sea?
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. Winter, now hastening to possess for bride
The Earth, left widowed by bright Summer dead,
Bestows on her snow-robes of whitest pride,
Replacing weeds of Autumn witheréd;
Thus, through his bounty, being newly dressed,
That she may shine, his bride indeed confessed.
. Now will she wail not for her former spouse—
No more compare his sunlit smile most sweet
With the dark gloom o'erspreading Winter's brows,
His breath of coldness, and his robes of sleet;
Whiles he, as jealous of the dead's past mirth,
Lays his effacing garb upon the earth.
january.
III. The sedge-bound brook that, in the Summer days,
Babbling and sparkling surged an am’rous song,
Winter has prisoned with an ice cold gaze,
And silently he creeps his banks along;
Condemned to muteness sullenly doth roll,
And in sad silence vexes out his soul.
IV. The skies above, beholding, frown to gray;
Not such their aspect when, in Summer's time,
They through the drift-clouds smiled on sweltering day,
And with him joyed in the year's gladdening prime;
How can they smile upon a waste of snow,
To whom his flower-starred robe did Summer show?
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1. In beds of the warm, friendly clay,
'Neath shelter of snow-drifts at play,
What treasures lie buried from sight—
What hopes in mysterious night !
II. But dark are those depths of the earth,
And silent with life, until birth
Of first-coming, tiniest shoots,
Which spring from the exquisite roots.
. The strong-hearted, sombre-hued tree
Awaits a new robe patiently,
While singing winds over him pass,
And sunbeams which cherish the grass,
Give promise of delicate green
In leaf-buds the loveliest seen.
III. With many a thought do we wreathe
The embryo flowers; for they breathe
Of hopes, and of faith ever strong,
Low-hiding, but sweeter than song.
. Sweet voices are pouring forth love
In bright, joyous freedom above;
The sparrow flies swift to his mate,_
“Come, dearest, our home-nest is late,”
He warbles in notes true and clear,
In this the glad dawn of the year.
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March.
O loveless month, so bleak and chill,
Thy fields in solemn gray and brown
No sign of life, no winning graceſ
For winter looks with angry frown,
And lingers late. O frosty crown,
Dissolve! then buds shall come apace,
The husbandman go forth to till,
And sweet arbutus, blooming down
Amid dead leaves, we'll seek until
Its precious flowers are all our own.
O boisterous month in field or town,
Spring's loveliness thou canst not kill!
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April.
The April rain falls slowly,
Like tears that follow sighs,
And fleecy clouds glide lightly
Over the azure skies;
The soft south-wind is wooing
The pale clematis vine,
Dallying with its tendrils,
As trustingly they twine.
From sward that spreads before me
The crocus lifts its head,
And pale and starry flowers
Peep from their winter bed;
And o'er the latticed trellis
The clinging vine doth creep,
While down amid the mossy turf
The harebell lies asleep.
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May.
Thou poets' month, O sweet, inspiring May
Beloved month of glorious, spring-time flowers,
In smiles and tears we pass thy fleeting hours,
So full of loving promises, so gay
With wondrous floral banners, which repay
The patient waiting for our garden bowers.
Exulting 'mid the bloom since April showers,
The charming red-breast greets us every day,
And all the welcome, gentle birds that sing
Their joyous songs, their ever grateful praise.
The nectar-seeking, toiling honey-bees
Make airy journeys far on happy wing—
Forget they all, as we, the wintry days,
And wander with the poets as they please.
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june.
With blossoms fair and fragrant, June doth lead
The summer, fresh and lovely in soft green;
So gracious are her smiles and sweet demean,
We would that June might stay. Rare days indeed
She brings—rare, perfect days in park and mead.
Snow-white and rich-hued roses grace each scene,
Diffusing choicest perfume. Half unseen
Are modest buds, full worthy of their meed
Of praise—the opening, blushing buds that rise
To deck anew with beauty our proud earth,
In June so beautiful that Paradise
Could ne'er have won more love and song at birth
Of this fair globe; and lo! in cloudland view
Celestial pictures framed in heaven's own blue.
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35
How subtly passionate thou art, July
A wily softness in a tropic glow !
Like some rare woman whose exultant eye
Speaketh her pride that she is worshipped so;
Yet in that scornful, languorous delight
Of sense and power and rich imaginings,
Feels that her soul should take a broader flight,
And love should lead her on to nobler things.
So with wild lightnings and the dark'ning cloud
Of anger doth her burning ardor slay,
By queenly frowns, commands, and chidings loud,
Seeking to hide the tears she cannot stay;
Glad when at last her own breath cool and sweet
Doth wrap her form in peace from head to feet.

August.
The earth is reposing, and peacefully dreams;
Behold her half-veiled in the sun's silver beams |
A delicate haze steals tenderly low,
The glory of August encircles her brow.
The zephyrs are laden with sweet-scented clover,
The time of field-lilies is scarcely yet over,
Red, velvety sumach peers up o'er the way,
And many-flowered asters are bright-eyed as day.
Dear, modest wild roses, unrivalled in hue,
Beloved as the garden-rose, fresh as the dew,
I find on a hillside in fragrance alone,
"Mid cedars and larches, rough bramble and stone.
Abiding their fate in the sunshine, and storm,
Late roses, all sweetness, their mission perform.
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- September.
The vine-covered walls are all bright on the lea
With warm, sunny rays, and the gold-flower free
In breezes of autumn is nodding her head,
A fairy-like welcome. Has sweet summer sped 2
Ay, summer is o'er; but we cherish her joys,
Remember her roses, ethereal toys:
Speak softly,–see now, as we come from her bier,
A few of her children are lingering near.
On midland, in valley, the grain-fields so fair,
Invite to their fullness the laborer's care.
Well-bound, yellow sheaves display feasts of a year;
For humble, for proud, yea, all life they shall cheer.

47
October.
Sweet welcome we give thee, October, in mantle of scarlet and gold;
What splendor in all thy leaf-tinting, what charms in thy wealth never told !
Behold the rich fruits and new grains on the bosom of earth as a friend,
To whom clinging, they would not forsake (but how soon must the pleasant
dream end). -
Sought fondly by rivals in orchard and meadow, the ripe fruitage yields
To the embrace of its lover—is kissed by a child of the fields.
Full clusters in transparent purple are peeping from bronze-colored vines,
All luscious, and perfect, and tempting, and fairer than gold from the mines.
Rare pictures on mountain, in valley, are seen in the beautiful light,
Which only an autumn sun gives, in its peerless, its unchanging right.
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Movember.
She was a lusty maid, to Winter wed,—
Young Winter, a fresh bridegroom—yet full soon
Came Sorrow ere 'twas half the honeymoon;
And gusty Passion stormed, then tears she shed,
And when she fain would smile she hung her head.
Unlooked-for Poverty, a surly loon,
Knocked at the door, and chilled their sunless noon;
Hard was their fare, and harder still their bed.
Then Winter rigorous was. This ill she brooked,
And, in her pinched consumption as she bowed,
The impatient bridegroom daily on her looked,
And soon he wrapped her in her snowy shroud:
Then, while the winds moaned o'er her lonely grave,
He sped, and tuned his voice to many a merry stave.
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ADecember.
O month of sobbing storms, with smiles, anon;
With piercing winds,-then softly falling flakes
So pure and white they bring forgetfulness
Of all the transient gloom and wrathful skies.
Like some impetuous youth dost thou give sway
To many fearful moods and bitter tears;
Then speedily bid welcome to sweet peace,
Up-springing from the sad and tearful strife.
Within December's fitful days and nights,
The shadows linger, darken well around,
Then fading, blending with the rosy light
Of a grand birth-morn dawning o'er our race,
Are lost, forgotten 'mid the joy and song
And hours of high and holiest delight.
O month of gifts and offerings fair to see I
With thee there came to us the Royal gift.—
A glorious Saviour born to one and all,
Whose love doth brighten all our wintry path.
Through seasons fair or dark, to Him we give
Our sweetest praise, our ever grateful hearts.
FEB 9 1918

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