U

Song of the Summer Winds

P the dale and down the bourne,

O'er the meadow swift we fly;

Now we sing and now we mourn, Now we whistle, now we sigh.

By the grassy-fringéd river,

Through the murmuring reeds, we sweep;

Mid the lily-leaves we quiver,

To their very hearts we creep.

Now the maiden rose is blushing
At the frolic things we say,
While aside her cheek we're rushing
Like some truant bees at play.

Down the glen, across the mountain,
O'er the yellow heath we roam,
Whirling round about the fountain
Till its little breakers foam.

Bending down the weeping willows
While our vesper hymn we sigh;

Then unto our rosy pillows

On our weary wings we fly.

George Darley

I

Question

ASKED the wind for word of him,

The wild west wind that scours the sea;

But all the sky with rain grew dim,

And dead leaves trembled on the tree.

I asked the sea, so still and gray,
Sighing strange secrets o'er and o'er;
But with a moan it stole away,

And left me on the wide, wet shore.

And with a sudden throb I knew

That my poor hope had been in vain; And round me wept the heavy dew,

And the leaves fell, and sobbed like rain.

Ethel . Ireland

So as the last light ebbs away

I linger by the pine and palm,

To see the night run cool and gray

And nun-like through the depths of calm, Nor pause to ask how many times

The roses leafed, to make so sweet

September here among the limes,

Or there where fall and summer meet.

Will Wallace Harney

A

An Interpreter

LL summer my companion

Was a white aspen tree,

Far up the sheer blue canyon,

A glad door-ward for me.

There at my cabin entry,

Where Beauty went and came, Abode that quiet sentry

Who knew the winds by name.

And when to that lone portal,
All the clear starlight through,
Came news of things immortal
No mortal ever knew,

That vigilant, unweary,

Kept solitary post,

And heard the woodpipes eerie

Of a fantastic host

Play down the wind in sadness,
Play up the wind in glee-
The ancient lyric madness,

The joy that is to be.

Bliss Carman

H

ERE'S Goldenrod!

Filling the corners of the zigzag rails,
Gilding the borders of the dreary way,

Spread in confusion over hills and dales,
Dear to the sight as to glad Earth the day;
Bright, yellow Goldenrod.

Fair Goldenrod!

The waving feather-fronds on stalks of green
Rise out of sterile and forbidding soil;

As with the sweetest heart and purest mien
Unsullied grows some child of sin and toil,
Fair as the Goldenrod.

Bright Goldenrod!

The untold treasures Earth holds hid away
Are far surpassed when, with a lavish hand,
She decks her generous breast with garlands gay
That early Autumn sees spread o'er the land-
A wealth of Goldenrod.

Wyles Tyler Frisßie

M

My Lady Jacqueminot

Y Lady's cheek is soft and red,

My Lady holds her graceful head

On high.

And why?

She knows not yet of care or woe;
She only lives to bud and blow-
My foolish Lady Jacqueminot.

My Lady's cheek is soft and red.
My Lady bows her weary head.
And why?

She's nigh

A heart that once was light as snow;
But hearts and flowers die, you know,
When broken, Lady Jacqueminot.

Julie M. Lippmann

The Bud

My leaves instinct with glowing life

Are quivering to unclose;

My happy heart with love is rife

I am almost a rose.