The bird has sought his tree, the snake his den,
The trout floats dead in the hot stream, and men
Drop by the sun-stroke in the populous town,
As if the Day of Fire had dawned and sent
Its deadly breath into the firmament.
W. C. Bryant.
AUGUST.
An August day! a dreamy haze
Films air, and mingles with the skies,
Sweetly the rich, dark sunshine plays,