Q.--

SAY, what is kindlier than snow,
Warming the unborn flowers;
Or robin's little minor song
In autumn's serest hours;
Say, where a gentler, tenderer thing
In this harsh world of ours?
A.--

To make the best of chill To-day
Earth snow of heaven doth borrow;
The robin sings of Yesterday,
(Sing yesterday, sigh sorrow!);
But give me hope's own excellence
Glad in her flawless Morrow.

The gentle vanishing of snow
Ere yet the clod be broken;
The songless swallow's level flight,--
Sweet summer's herald token;
The quiet greeting of true eyes
Ere love's first word be spoken.