Belle Paxon Drury.

THE WISCONSIN DELLS.

Half-veiled by a purple haze,

The cliffs and crags, their turrets raise,

The fragrant forests, umber, green,

Scintillate in the sunlight’s sheen,

And whispering low, through clinging vines,

A berceuse comes from singing pines.

—Illyria Turner.

MY SUMMER NIGHT.