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A SUMMER IDYL.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

THE light of the day is fading;

The stars peep, one by one,

From behind their azure curtain

That shrouds them from the sun.

The silver moon rises in splendor,

And wheels o'er the vault on high;

Borne by her unseen coursers,

She floats through the mellow sky;

And, bathed in the flooding glory,

The hills and the summer sea

Gloat in her white embraces

In a trance-like ecstasy.

The air is heavy with incense

Breathed from the budding flower;

The nightingale warbles his love-note

From out his leafy bower;

His last trill dies on the water;

It dies on the mountains' breast;

It fades in the tranquil silence,

And nature is at rest,

W. S. B.

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