VACATION.

All now is confidence, the fresh o'erflow
Of hearts, that feel, the transport, they bestow :
And then how pleasant all old haunts to view,
Each comrade greet, and former loves renew!

Warm is the welcome from each well known face,
That smiles beneath that old paternal roof:
And manifold, as tender, is the proof

Of interest, that each inmate of the place

Feels in me still, while all, with wonder, trace
Each change, in form or manner, time has wrought,
Since last we parted. In that warm embrace,

The charities of home and kindred race

Revive once more, with tenfold pleasure fraught.

But ah! how brief that pleasure soon the thought

Of parting grieves: yet transient is that pain,

The first home sickness never comes again;
Or comes, so softened, that the pensive grief
Yields pleasure, rather than demands relief.

THE PLAY GROUND.

Fearless they leap, and every youngster feels
His Alma active in his hands and heels.

CRABBE.

The sports of youth, and all the youthful train,
Each dear familiar object, to my sight

Returns, renewed, in all its old delight,

As through these haunts, with mingled joy and pain,

I roam once more, they all are here again,

Each spot so loved of yore; with dexterous sleight, The marble glancing to its destined aim,

The kite, the cricket, and the hardier game

Of foot ball, bounding o'er the trampled plain; The glowing brow, flushed cheek, and eye of flame, The toil to win, the effort to retain:

And lo! yon youth, another, yet the same,

My boy, with foot as restless in the chase,
As erst his sire's, when foremost in the race.

THE SWIMMER.

Flinging the billows back from my drenched hair,
And laughing from my lips the audacious brine!

BYRON.

The glowing fervours of the summer sun
Make grateful now the stream, wherein to lave
Our languid limbs, and sport along the wave.
And see yon tender stripling, who hath run
In haste, yet pauses ere the feat be done :

Lingering yet longing, fearful and yet brave,
He plunges headlong to the Nereid cave,
Emerging soon, with spoils from Neptune won.
See too yon puny Cassius* of the tide

His Cæsar daring through the waves to glide,
For yonder point, that distant lures the eye.

The stream they buffet now, with manly pride,
And lusty sinews, throwing it aside,
With hearts of controversy, beating high!

*Julius Cæsar, Act I, Scene II.

THE SNOW FOR T.

Their sinews grow

Firm mid the gladness of heroic sports.

TALFOURD.

Nor less our winter joys; 'tis now the time
For strenuous action: on each adverse height
The snow built fort provokes the hardy fight.
By numbers guarded, yet can courage climb
The steep ascent; while passions, that incite
Man's later years to virtue's daring flight,
Here spring to life, in strength of youthful prime.
Ambition, valour, hope's aspiring aim,

Contempt of danger, generous thirst for fame,
Give strength to fragile limbs; and force impart
Of manly daring to youth's slender frame.
Conduct is here might grace the soldier's art,
Or statesman's policy; their hopes the same,
In manhood's toils, and youth's adventurous game.

SKATING.

I.

They ask no other gem, nor wealth,

Save nature's gifts of youth and health. BYRON.

'Tis evening, and the winter's sky is fair;
Away with books then, and the musty rules
Of solemn pedants in their pent up schools!
While sloth lies slumbering on his easy chair,

Our young limbs, hardened by the frosty air,
Are strung for pleasure; as, with eager cry,
Pursuing and pursued, we mock at care,
Our sharp skates hissing o'er the icy glare.

Yon pool is open, but our thoughts defy
Its crackling ice; as wheeling swift we dare
Its verge approach, and blindly rush to try
Who first may nearest reach, who best compare
In rival rashness: sport with danger joined,
What charm more potent for youth's fearless mind!

II.

In little bosoms such achievements strike
A kindred spark; they burn to do the like.

COWPER.

Hark to the shout, the challenge, the reply!
The goal is yonder headland, far away:
What miles are traversed in the nimble play
Of youthful limbs; while hot blood mounts on high,
Warm hearts beat quick, as, sweeping swiftly by,
We onward press, impatient of delay:

Nor pause we now, in pity for the fall
Of luckless comrade, passed alike by all

With peals of merry laugh, that rend the skies.
Up, and away; thou yet may'st win the prize,
If hope desert not, nor base fear appal;

Then up, and on But hark! with accent clear, Yon bell, loud sounding, checks our fleet career, And home we turn, obedient to its call,

THE SWAMSCO T.

Now reigns

Full orbed the Moon, and with more pleasing light
Shadowy sets forth the face of things; in vain,

If none regard.

MILTON.

Frost bound river! o'er thy face,

Clear as crystal, while I glide, And along thy smooth ice trace Mazy windings far and wide, Joy's wild impulse swells the force That propels my onward course.

Care has dogged my steps all day,
Study worn my spirits down;
But from care I flee away,

And in transport study drown:
Fleeter than the rushing wind
I have left their trace behind.

Lone I

rove, yet not alone;

Snow clad hill and silent wood,

Spire and dome, now hid, now shown,
Creaking ice, and roaring flood,

Skies that sparkle, stars that burn
These are mine, where'er I turn.

-

Burning cheek, and flashing eye, Quickened breath, and pulses wild; Rapture, ending in a sigh,

Pain with pleasure reconciled