113
X.
LINES
Written at a small Distance from my House, and sent by my little Boy to the Person to whom they are addressed.
It is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before,
The Red-breast sings from the tall Larch
That stands beside our door.
There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yield
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.
My Sister! ('tis a wish of mine)
Now that our morning meal is done,
Make haste, your morning task resign;
Come forth and feel the sun.
