Only the wainscot-mouse,

Only the wild wind moaning

Over the lonely house.

b. T. B. ALDRICH-December, 1863.

Wild was the day; the wintry sea

Moaned sadly on New England's strand,
When first the thoughtful and the free,
Our fathers, trod the desert land.
C. BRYANT The Twenty-second of

December.
December drops no weak, relenting tear,
By our fond Summer sympathies ensnared,
Nor from the perfect circle of the year

Can even Winter's crystal gems be spared. d. C. P. CRANCH-December.

Shout now! The months with loud acclaim,
Take up the cry and send it forth;
May breathing sweet her Spring perfumes,
November thundering from the North.
With hands upraised, as with one voice,
They join their notes in grand accord:
Hail to December! say they all,

It gave to Earth our Christ the Lord!
J. K. HOYT The Meeting of the Months.

e.

About the frozen time. KEATS-Stanzas.

In December ring

Every day the chimes;
Loud the gleemen sing

In the streets their merry rhymes.
Let us by the fire
Ever higher

Sing them till the night expire!
LONGFELLOW-By the Fireside.

g.

A Christmas Carol.

p.

FULLER-The Holy and Profane States.
Bk. III. Of Tombs.

I have completed a monument more lasting than brass, and more sublime than the regal elevation of pyramids, which neither the wasting shower, the unavailing north-wind, or an innumerable succession of years, and the flight of seasons, shall be able to demolish. q. HORACE-BK. III. Ode XXX.

Smart's trans. Thou, in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a live-long monument.

T. MILTON-Epitaph. On Shakespeare.

n.

As the moon's fair image quaketh
In the raging waves of ocean,
Whilst she, in the vault of heaven,
Moves with silent peaceful motion.
HEINE-Book of Songs. New Spring.
Prologue. No. 23.
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that huntress of the silver bow
Fabled of old? Or rather dost thou tread
Those cloudy summits thence to gaze below,
Like the wild chamois from her Alpine snow,
Where hunters never climbed-secure from
dread?

e.

CHARLES JEFFREYS-Mary of Argyle.

Hues of the rich unfolding morn.
That, ere the glorious sun be born,
By some soft touch invisible

Around his path are taught to swell.
f.

KEBLE-The Christian Year. Morning.

Behold how brightly breaks the morning!
Though bleak our lot, our hearts are warm.
g. JAMES KENNEY-Behold How Brightly
Breaks.

A fine morning,
Nothing's the matter with it that I know of.
I have seen better and I have seen worse.
h. LONGFELLOW-Christus. Pt. III.
John Endicott. Act V. Sc. 2.

Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks, And through the opening door that time unlocks

Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep. i. LONGFELLOW-To-morrow.

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky. j. MILTON-Lycidas. L. 171.

Morn,

Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand Unbarr'd the gates of light. k.

MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk. VI. L. 2.

Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime Advancing, sow'd the earth with Orient pearl.

1. MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk. V. L. 1.

MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk. IV.

L. 641. Till morning fair Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray. MILTON-Paradise Regained. Bk. IV. L. 426.

n.

Under the opening eyelids of the morn. 0. MILTON-Lycidas. L. 26. When did morning ever break, And find such beaming eyes awake? p. MOORE-Fly not Yet.

O how beautiful is morning!

How the sunbeams strike the daisies
And the kingcups fill the meadow
Like a golden-shielded army
Marching to the uplands fair.

q. D. M. MULOCK-A Stream's Singing.

The eastern hanging crescent climbeth higher; See, purple on the azure softly steals,

And Morning, faintly touched with quivering

fire,

Leans on the frosty summits of the hills, Like a young girl over her hoary sire. ROSCOE-Poems and Essays.

1.

8.

Clothing the palpable and familiar
With golden exhalations of the dawn.
SCHILLER-The Death of Wallenstein.
Act V. Sc. 1. Coleridge's trans.
An hour before the worshipp'd sun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east.
t. Romeo and Juliet. Act I. Sc. 1.

L. 125.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach.
u. Titus Andronicus. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 5.
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
v. Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 166.
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
Romeo and Juliet. Act III. Sc. 5. L. 9.

w.