There is sorrow in Beechenbrook Cottage; the dayHas been bright with the earliest glory of May;The blue of the sky is as tender a blueAs ever the sunshine came shimmering through:The songs of the birds and the hum of the bees,As they merrily dart in and out of the trees,—The blooms of the orchard, as sifting its snows,It mingles its odors with hawthorn and rose,—The voice of the brook, as it lapses unseen,—The laughter of... more...