ENVIABLE POVERTY.

I GLANCE into the harvest field,

Where, 'neath the shade of richest trees,
The reaper and the reaper's wife
Enjoy their noonday ease.

And in a shadow of the hedge
I hear full many a merry sound,
Where the stout, brimming water-jug
From mouth to mouth goes round.

About the parents in the grass,

Sit boys and girls of various size,
And, like the buds about the rose,
Make glad my gazing eyes.

See! God himself from heaven spreads
Their table with the freshest green,

And lovely maids, his angel band,
Bear heaped dishes in.

A laughing infant's sugar lip,

Waked by the mother's kiss doth deal

126

THE WALK.

To the poor parents a dessert

Still sweeter than their meal.

From breast to breast, from arm to arm,
Goes wandering round the rosy boy,
A little circling flame of love,

A living, general joy.

And strengthened thus for farther toil,
Their toil is but joy fresh begun;
That wife,-0, what a happy wife!

And O, how rich is that poor man'

THE WALK.

I WENT a walk on Sunday,

But so lonely everywhere!—

O'er every path and upland
Went loving pair and pair.

I strolled through greenest corn-fields,
All dashed with gold so deep;
How often did I feel as though

My very heart would weep!

DALEI.

The heaven so softly azure,

The sun so full of life!

And everywhere youth and maiden,
Was happy man and wife.

They watched the yellowing harvest,
Stood where cool water starts;
They plucked flowers for each other,
And with them gave their hearts.

The larks, how they singing hovered
And streamed gladness from above!
How high in the listening bosoms
Rose the flame of youthful love!

In the locks of the blithe youngsters
The west wind loved to play,-

And lifted with colder finger,

My hair already gray.

Ah! I heard song and laughter,

And it went to my

heart's core ;

O, were I again in boyhood!

Were I free and young once more!

DALEI

128

LOVE IN IDLENESS.

LOVE IN IDLENESS.

WHEN comes the beauteous summer time,
And grass grows green once more,
And sparkling brooks the meadows lave
With fertilizing power;

And when the birds rejoicing sing

Their pleasant songs again,

Filling the vales and woodlands gay
With their enlivening strain ;—

Go not at eve nor morn, fair maids,
Unto the mead alone,

To seek the tender violets blue,

And pluck them for your own;
For there a snake lies hid, whose fangs
May leave untouched the heel,

But not the less,-O, not the less,
Your hearts his power shall feel!

DOETE DE TROIES.

THE END.

PRINTED BY I. ASHMEAD.