POETRY.
JULY AT THE LeFFS.
LEsS frequent now the corncrake thro' the night
With harsh mechanic utterance speeds the hours, Scarce sleep the birds in never-darkened bowers, And ever burns in heaven the under-light Of Morn. Up-float the lilies opening bright, Her shells the dancing wild-rose downward showers, Full peals are rung from all the foxglove towers, And ox-eye daisies wash the meadows white.
Thro' veils of incense breathes the gentle West, And o'er the lake and up the mountain-side The mellow vapour like a phantom steals, While round the "clipping" tree the shepherds jest, And mowers for the welcome sun make wide, Clear, grassy ways behind their scythed wheels.
H. D. R.