SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

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SUMMER MORNING LANDSCAPE.--DELTA.


The eyelids of the morning are awake;
The dews are disappearing from the grass;
The sun is o'er the mountains; and the trees,
Moveless, are stretching through the blue of heaven,
Exuberantly green. All noiseless
The shadows of the twilight fleet away,
And draw their misty legion to the west,
Seen for awhile, 'mid the salubrious air,
Suspended in the silent atmosphere,
As in Medina's mosque Mahomet's tomb,--
Up from the coppice, on exulting wing,
Mounts, mounts the skylark through the clouds of dawn,--
The clouds, whose snow-white canopy is spread
Athwart, yet hiding not, at intervals,
The azure beauty of the summer sky;
And, at far distance heard, a bodiless note
Pours down, as if from cherub stray'd from Heaven!

Maternal Nature! all thy sights and sounds
Now breathe repose, and peace, and harmony.