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SUMMER WINDS.

For after the rain, when, with never a stain,
The pavilion of heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams, with their
convex gleams,

Build

up the blue dome of air

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,

And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,

I rise and upbuild it again.

PEROY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

DRINKING.

THE thirsty earth soaks up the rain, And drinks, and gapes for drink again; The plants suck in the earth, and are, With constant drinking, fresh and fair; The sea itself, (which one would think Should have but little need of drink,) Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up, So filled that they o'erflow the cup. The busy sun (and one would guess By's drunken fiery face no less,) Drinks up the sea, and, when he 'as done, The moon and stars drink up the sun: They drink and dance by their own light; They drink and revel all the night. Nothing in nature's sober found, But an eternal "health" goes round. Fill up the bowl then, fill it high— Fill all the glasses there; for why Should every creature drink but I; Why, man of morals, tell me why? ANACREON. (Greek)

Translation of ABRAHAM COWLEY.

THE MIDGES DANCE ABOON THE BURN.

THE midges dance aboon the burn;
The dews begin to fa';

The pairtricks down the rushy holm
Set up their e'ening ca'.

Now loud and clear the blackbird's sang
Rings through the briery shaw,
While flitting gay, the swallows play
Around the castle wa'.

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Through the blooming groves we rustle,
Kissing every bud we pass,—
As we did it in the bustle,
Scarcely knowing how it was.

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 hie.

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O WILD West Wind, thou breath of autumn's

being,

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves Thou who didst waken from his summer

dead

dreams

III.

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams,

fleeing

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