July

Clad in her robes of green and goldAnd royal purple, fold on fold,Midsummer's gracious QueenEnters her kingdom, blossom-crowned,And sheds her peerless grace aroundWith majesty serene.

She brings a wealth of deep-blue skies,Hot sunsets flushed with scarlet dyesAnd sweet with airs of balm.Voluptuous swells of melody,Bird diapasons wild and free,Break on the pulseless calm.

The springs are low; the tall grass dipsWithin the brook its thirsty lips,To drink with eager zest;In the green woods the shadows lieSo deep, the south wind's lang'rous sighScarce palpitates their rest.

July! thou priestess of the year!Sweet Southron, from a tropic sphere!Native of some far shore!Rich tones, and thrills, and breaths, are thine,The souvenirs of lands divineThy mantle hath swept o'er!