HER soft descending showers 

Hath April poured upon the smiling plains,

And leafy June leads on the sultry hours; 

For May hath gone, 

And summer marches on, 

To take possession of her wide domains.

The skies are bright and blue,

Save where the silver clouds sail slowly by. 

In every form and ever-varying hue. 

Soft breathes the gale 

Through each sequestered vale, 

And high o'erhung with forests waving high,

Now, in the meadows green,

The fragrant odor of the new-mown hay 

Rises like incense where the scythe hath been. 

And all the air 

Re-echoes everywhere 

With sounds of labor till the close of day.

Now, hurried from the fold,

The bleating flocks dash through the cleans- 

ing stream

And issue, dripping, from the waters cold; 

Till, warm and dry, , , 

They all contented lie, 

Shorn of their fleeces, in the sunlight's gleam.

Hushed are the warbled strains

Of earth's glad minstrels; for, with busy care, 

On restless wing they seek the fertile plains, 

And to their brood 

Swift bear their insect food, 

And with low chirpings fill the silent air.

But now, in bright array,

A thousand blossoms glitter on the sward, 

Like us they linger but to pass away; 

Yet, bright and fair, 

They scent the morning air, 

And waft their odors on the winds abroad.

Amid the hedge-rows green

The sweet-brier bids her crimson buds expand, 

Within whose folds the wild bee lurks unseen; 

Low on the ground 

The strawberry is found, 

Within the woods that flourish o'er our land.

Throned on the placid tide

Of some clear stream the lily lies at rest, 

Sleeping in peace where the still waters glide; 

And, tired of flight, 

The dragon-fly may light, 

And fold its wings above her snowy crest.

For now the glorious days

Of early summer shed their brightness here, 

And all creation sings its Maker's praise; 

While every flower 

That blossoms for an hour 

Marks the swift progress of the rolling year. 

 Kind Worth.