Some silent laws our hearts may make, Which they shall long obey : We for the year to come may take Our temper from to-day. And from the blessed power that rolls About, below, above, We'll frame the measure of our souls: They shall be tuned to love. Then come, my sister! come, I pray, With speed put on your woodland dress ; -And bring no book: for this one day We'll give to idleness. THE FEMALE VAGRANT. My Father was a good and pious man, To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed, |