Half sleeps in the dimples that chequer the stream;
The dragon-fly hushes his day-dreamy lay,
The silver trout sulks in his sedge-shaded bay—
While our thoughts sweetly run in a soft singing rhyme,
As we lazily loiter in strawberry time!
Sweet, sweet is the scent of the newly-mown hay,
Light borne by the breeze on a bright summer's day;
And cool is the sound of the musical plash,
As bright bubbles fall in the fountain and flash.
'Tis joy then to wander in gay golden hours,