Thy branches ever brightly wave,
Above a happy soil.




AN AFTERNOON IN JULY.


How hushed and still are earth and air,
How languid 'neath the sun's fierce ray--
Drooping and faint--the flowrets fair,
On this hot, sultry, summer day!
Vainly I watch the streamlet blue
That near my cottage home doth pass,
No ripple stirs its azure hue,
Still--waveless, as a sheet of glass

And if I woo from yonder trees
A breath of coolness for my brow,
They've none to give--not e'en a breeze
Rustles amid their foliage now;
Yes, hush! there stirred a leaf, but no,
Tis only some poor, panting bird,
With silenced note, head drooping low,
That 'mid the shady green boughs stirred.

Oh dear! how sultry! vain to seek
To while the time with pleasant book,
Soon drowsy head and crimsoned cheek