. St. Nicholas [serial] . , and the snow-flakes had melted,And the wind grown too weary to shout,But March was still grumbling, when. lo ! a wee flowrFrom a tiny green mantle peeped Oh, what is the use? said she, gently, Of being so dreadfully cross? I have three little sisters so frightened at youThey are hiding away in the moss. And the buds of the trees are still lingringIn the boughs, for they fear to burst forth,And only two birds, of the host that went SouthLast autumn, have dared to come smile once or twice ere you leave us,And the hearts of the timid ones cheer,For belie
. St. Nicholas [serial] . , and the snow-flakes had melted,And the wind grown too weary to shout,But March was still grumbling, when. lo ! a wee flowrFrom a tiny green mantle peeped Oh, what is the use? said she, gently, Of being so dreadfully cross? I have three little sisters so frightened at youThey are hiding away in the moss. And the buds of the trees are still lingringIn the boughs, for they fear to burst forth,And only two birds, of the host that went SouthLast autumn, have dared to come smile once or twice ere you leave us,And the hearts of the timid ones cheer,For believe me, dear March, it is better by farTo be thought of with love than withfear. As she paused, March was shaking with laughter. Why, you elf-bloom, you pale little thing,Where got you the courage a lecture to giveTo the rollicking son of the Spring?But you re right, pretty one, and to show youThere are other months worse than I am,Here s a smile of the very best sun-shine, my dear,And he turned and went out like a 366 IN NATURE S WONDERLAND. [March, IN NATURES WONDERLAND; OR, ADVENTURES IN THE AMERICAN Felix L. Oswald. Chapter V. There is a land where Summer never dies,A land forever green, neath cloudless skies,A Paradise of birds and butterflies. The longest mountain-range on earth is thechain of the Cordilleras, or Andes, as they arecalled in South America, which stretches all theway from Cape Horn to Alaska—for the Rocky-Mountains of the United States are only a continu-ation of the sierras of western Mexico. Threedays after our departure from the hacienda, wecrossed the main chain of this mountain-range, neara point the Mexicans call the Wild Rose Pass, adefile where the head-waters of the Rio Verde havewashed out a deep gap. It was in the month ofDecember; the flowers of the wild rose-bushes werefaded, and all around us rose tower-like masses ofrock and ice, the glaciers of the central roads were extremely rough, but Daddy Simonwould never l
Size: 1568px × 1593px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookidstnicholasse, bookyear1873
