The vegetable world is all alive,
Green grows the gooseberry on its bush of thorn,
The infant bees now swarm around the hive,
And the sweet bean perfumes the lap of morn,
Millions of embryos take the wing to fly,
The young inherit, and the old ones die.
’Tis summer all—convey me to the bower,
The bower of myrtle form’d by Myra’s skill,
There let me waste away the noontide hour,
Fann’d by the breezes from yon cooling rill,
By Myra’s side reclin’d, the burning ray
Shall be as grateful as the cool of day.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 61·07.
[236] The Times, July 3, 1826.