A DAY IN EARLY SUMMER.

A little wood, wherein with silver sound

A brooklet whispers all the sunny day,

And on its banks all flow’rets which abound

In the bright circle of the charmèd May:

Primroses, whose faint fragrance you may know

From other blooms; and oxlips, whose sweet breath

Is kissed by windflowers—star-like gems which blow

Beside pale sorrel, in whose veins is death;

Larch-trees are there, with plumes of palest green;

And cherry, dropping leaves of scented white;

While happy birds, amid the verdant screen,

Warble their songs of innocent delight.

Surely they err who say life is not blest;

Hither may come the weary and have rest.

J. C. H.

Printed and Published by W. & R. Chambers, 47 Paternoster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh.