Who Longest Wait Of All Surely Wins.

Still Lie The Sheltering Snows, Undimmed And White; And Reigns The Winter's Pregnant Silence Still; No Sign Of Spring, Save That The Catkins Fill, And Willow Stems Grow Daily Red And Bright. These Are Days When Ancients Held A Rite Of Expiation For The Old Year's Ill, And Prayer To Purify The New Year's Will.

The Goldenrod Is Yellow, The Corn Is Turning Brown, The Trees In Apple Orchards With Fruit Are Bending Down.

Next Time!' In What Calendar Are Kept The Records Of Those Next Times Which Never Come?

O May, Sweet-voice One, Going Thus Before, Forever June May Pour Her Warm Red Wine Of Life And Passions,--sweeter Days Are Thine!

O Bees, Sweet Bees!" I Said; "that Nearest Field Is Shining White With Fragrant Immortelles Fly Swiftly There And Drain Those Honey Wells.