MIDSUMMER IN NEW ENGLAND.
THE royalty of midsummer is here! With daisy blooms the meadow lands are white; And over them the birds chant their delight, And the blue, listening heavens bend to hear.
Within the lily's painted cup the bee Swings drowsily, and dreams about the rose He loved in June, and how her leaves repose Where none can find them save the winds and he.
The trees are heavy with their wealth of green; And under them the waiting maidens walk, And fill the idle hours with girlish talk Of such a knight as never girl has seen,—
How he is noble, good, and princely tall; And one day he will come from his far place, And read the blushes in his true love's face, And she will rise and follow at his call.
And then I see a little painted boat, Its white sails set to seek the summer sea, And in that boat two lovers, young and free, With favoring winds, 'neath smiling skies afloat;