JULY.
The night hardly covers the face of the sky,
But the darkness is drawn
Like a veil o'er the heaven these nights in July,
A veil rent at dawn,
When with exquisite tremors the poplar leaves quiver,
And a breeze like a kiss wakes the slumbering river,
And the light in the east keener grows—clearer grows,
Till the edge of the clouds turn from pearl into rose,
And o'er the hill's shoulder—the night wholly past—
The sun peeps at last!
Come out! there's a freshness that thrills like a song,
That soothes like a sleep;
And the scent of wild thyme on the air borne along,
Where the downs slope up steep.
There's such dew on the earth and such lights in the heaven,
Lost joys are forgotten, old sorrows forgiven,
And the old earth looks new—and our hearts seem new-born,
And stripped of the cere-clothes which long they have worn—
And hope and brave purpose awaken anew
'Mid the sunshine and dew.