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Sturdy mowers, in the morning early,
Sharpen cheeping scythes, all wet with dew, As athwart the east the sky grows pearly
Ere the shadows stretch themselves anew. When the sun is high, in mid-day splendour,
Frugally they feast in grateful shade, Under spreading tents of June leaves tender,
Where with new cut grass a couch is made. Long the daylight lasts—the broad backs bending
Still reap heavy harvest from the field;
Little eyes with weariness soon sealed.
Frolic-laughter merry peals doth ring;
Smothering heaps upon each other fling. When the deepening twilight gloom is falling,
And the shorn mead dark and darker grows, Echo mocks the distant voices calling,
All unwilling for the night's repose. Such the strength that won old England's glory,
Such the strong hearts of our loving pride; Great in modern as in ancient story,
Sweeping down the swath of battle's tide.
“Thé peaches on the garden wall
Were lately hard and green;
In their ripe beauty seen ?”
So tints the son each fruit and Rover
With his ail-powertal rsrs;
And turn to meet his gsze.
Whose eyes of azure beam
Of some pure glassy stream ;-
Beyond our earthly reach;
Gives colour to the peach.”
“But whence the perfume of the flowers ?
The juice of luscious pines ? Doth, then, the cause of these dwell higher,
Beyond where yon sun shines ?" Another voice came whispering low,
“How like this child are we! Wondering, with upward looks of love,
Beside a parent's knee.”
In the old sequestered orchard;
When the glowing sun goes down,
Of the busy town.
Where the ruddy fruit o’erhanging,
Arches down the yielding trees ;
Whisper to the breeze.
Where kind nature's blazoned missal
Opens lovingly, to teach Bounty, in the rich profusion
Of the plum and peach.
Sweet pomaceous perfumed juices
On moss-cumbered fronds abound; Lusciously the melting clusters
Bend towards the ground.
Plenty, her ambrosial incense,
Offers to refreshing night; Gold and ruby censers swinging
In the sleepy light.
Lingering rays still lean and shimmer
On the green fig-dotted walls ; And a grateful hushing stillness
O’er the spirit falls.
Hark ! a deep-toned organ's fullness
Children's voices sweet and clear ! 'Tis the holy hymn of evening
In the chapel near.
White robed thoughts of heavenly glory,
As we listen, fill the breast; Cloud-lit, radiant vistas opening,
Pathways of the blest.
Shines a welling cup of
mercy, Borne by bright-winged seraphim, Hither wafted on the echoings
Of that evening hymn.
DROUGHT AND RAIN.
The time of drought has lasted long :
No pasture on the plain:
Their heads in need of rain.
The fruit hangs rotting on the branch;
The sun strikes on the brain Of
workers, in the heated air Unfreshened by the rain.
The lowing herds, the bleating sheep
In altered tones complain;
Of hoped for, longed for, rain.
A little while and then no more
May these their life sustain ;
They die for want of rain.
A cry goes up from human souls:
O God! to hear us deign,
In mercy grant us rain.
Dark drifting clouds,—the baffling wind
Drives to and fro the vane;-
The pattering on the pane.
Earth revels in the rushing flood,
The downpour on the plain That, scorched and cracked and parched and burnt,
Now drinks the plashing rain.
Rationalistic foes, forbear!
Our creed we will maintain ;
sends this rain.
A SKETCH FROM NATURE.
I hear a sure token,
Of summer's warm days!
Beneath the moon's rays.
Harsh breezes are sighing,
Upon the damp lawn ;
Of evening or morn.
Gay summer is going-
Are over and past;
His yellow leaves fast.
As twilight falls lightly,