THE COUNTRY IN JULY

WHERE glistening in the softness of the night

The vagrant will-o’ - wisps do greet the sight;

Where fragrance baffling permeates the breeze

That gently flouts the grasses and the trees;

Where every flying thing doth seem to be

Instinct with sweetly sensuous melody;

Where hills and dales assume their warmest phase,

With here and there a scarf of opal haze

To soften their luxuriant attire;

Where one can almost hear the elfin choir

Across the meadow-land, down in the wood,

In songs of gladness — there are all things good.

Ah! ye who seek the spot where joys abide,

Awake! Awake! Seek out the country-side,

And through the blue-gray July haze see life

All free from care, from sorrow, and from strife.