10. When Spring, advancing, calls her feather'd quire,
And tunes to softer notes her laughing lyre;
Musk'd in the rose's lap fresh dews are shed,
And breathe celestial lustres round her head.
Darwin.
11. June with its roses,——June!
The gladdest month of the capricious year,
With its thick foliage, and its sunlight clear,
And with a drowsy tune
Of the bright leaping waters, as they pass