File:The school physiology journal (1898) (14589656649).jpg

Identifier: schoolphysiology08bost (find matches)
Title: The school physiology journal
Year: 1898 (1890s)
Authors:
Subjects: Physiology Hygiene Temperance Physiology Hygiene Temperance
Publisher: Boston : Mary H. Hunt
Contributing Library: Francis A. Countway Library of Medicine
Digitizing Sponsor: Open Knowledge Commons and the National Endowment for the Humanities

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On south-sloping brooksides should smile in the light, Oer the cold winter-beds of their late waking rootsThe frosty flake eddies, the ice-crystal shoots; And longing for light, underwind-driven heaps, Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground - laurelcreeps, Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers,With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers !We wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south !For the touch of thy light wings, the kiss of thy mouth; For the yearly evangel thou bearest from God,Resurrection and life to the graves of the sod. John Greenleaf Whittier. SLEEPING BEAUTIES. Where are the flowers ? Dont you know?Why Mother Nature long ago in their over Tucked them up cunning beds,Pulled the blankets their heads,And patting them down so snug and nice,Said : Lie there, darlings, as still as mice,For when Spring comes back with sunny showersI will waken my pretty flowers.So theyre all asleep, as fast as can be,With the snow spread over them, dont you see ?
Text Appearing After Image:
SPRING IS COMING.Spring is coming up the valleys, now the grasseshear her tread, And the little sleeping rootlets nod each hidden,drowsy head. Mother Natures looms are weaving dresses fine of every hue,For the daffodils the yellow, for the wind-flowers soft, pale blue. All the pansy scouts arewatching for the enemysretreat; With the sun and windagainst him, how canwinter help defeat? . —Ninette M. Lowater. Hurne-Jonts. Spring. The spring comes slowly up this way. SPRING SONG. Invisible hands from sum-mer lands Have plucked the icicles oneby one; And sly little fingers, reacheddown from the sun, Lay hold on the tips of thegrass in the sands.And O, and O,Where is the snow ! The crow is calling, Showers are falling. Up, up and out of your garments gray,Ho ! willow and weed, each secret seed ;The music of waters is heard in the mead,And surly old Winter hashied him away !And O, and OWhere is the snow !The snake is crawling,Showers are falling. —John Vance Cheney. Flowers o the Spring

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