Early Spring. Oh, sweetly now the seasons change ! From dark and grim to lightsome eves ! The happy birds have longer range, And later twitter on the eaves. The face of nature still is grave, The dint of biting frost-is there ; But shining laurels boldly wave Their welcome to a milder air. The earth looks soft, as if, beneath, The sun’s increasing warmth had power ; And soon shall pierce the tender sheath : Which holds the perfect snow-drop flower. Dear is the earliest dawn of spring— This hint of future ecstasy— The thrushes feel it first, and sing Enraptured on yon naked tree. I would that I like them could pour Songs sweet as is my heart’s delight ! And when earth’s winters all are o’er, I hope to hail a spring as bright. Judith .