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BY MRS. JULIET H. L. CAMPBELL.
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The day declined in Egypt, and the faintly fluttering breeze
Drooped, with dew-laden pinion, ’mid the dark pom’granate trees;
The purple grapes, like clustering gems, hung heavy on the vine,
Half bursting with their luscious pulp, and rich with ruddy wine,
The broad green leaves that shadowed them throughout the noontide glare,
Now, quivering, fanned their glowing rinds, and cooled the brooding air;
While hitherward, and thitherward, the date tree and the palm,