Features, The Great Soul's Apparent Seat.

The Gentle Race Of Flowers Are Lying In Their Lowly Beds.

Come When The Rains Have Glazed The Snow And Clothed The Trees With Ice, While The Slant Sun Of February Pours Into The Bowers A Flood Of Light. Approach! The Incrusted Surface Shall Upbear Thy Steps And The Broad Arching Portals Of The Grove Welcome Thy Entering.

It Is Said To Be The Manner Of Hypochondriacs To Change Often Their Physician.

And At My Silent Window-sill The Jessamine Peeps In.

Showers And Sunshine Bring, Slowly, The Deepening Verdure O'er The Earth; To Put Their Foliage Out, The Woods Are Slack, And One By One The Singing-birds Come Back.