The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep to-night.

The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.

There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.

The daffodil is our doorside queen; she pushes upward the sword already, To spot with sunshine the early green.

The sky spread over with one continuous cloud, whitened by the light of the moon, which, though her dim shape was seen, did not throw forth so strong a light a…

One naked star has waded through The purple shadows of the night, And faltering as falls the dew It drips its misty light.

To man, that was in th' evening made, Stars gave the first delight; Admiring, in the gloomy shade, Those little drops of light.