20 Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws ; 21 Through the clear streams the fishes rise, 22 And nimbly catch the incautious flies. 23 The glowworms, numerous and light, 24 Illumed the dewy dell last night; 25 At dusk the squalid toad was seen, 26 Hopping and crawling o'er the green; 27 The whirling dust the wind obeys, 28 And in the rapid eddy plays; 29 The frog has changed his yellow vest, 30 And in a russet coat is dressed.

31 Though June, the air is cold and still, 32 The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill; 33 My dog, so altered in his taste, 34 Quits mutton-bones on grass to feast; 35 And see yon rooks, how odd their flight!

36 They imitate the gliding kite,

37 And seem precipitate to fall,
38 As if they felt the piercing ball.

39 T will surely rain; I see with sorrow,
40 Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.

DR. EDWARD JENNER.

SUMMER MOODS.

I LOVE at eventide to walk alone,

Down narrow glens, o'erhung with dewy thorn,
Where from the long grass underneath, the snail,
Jet black, creeps out, and sprouts his timid horn.
I love to muse o'er meadows newly mown,
Where withering grass perfumes the sultry air;
Where bees search round, with sad and weary
drone,

In vain, for flowers that bloomed but newly

there;

While in the juicy corn the hidden quail

Cries, "Wet my foot"; and, hid as thoughts unborn,

The fairy-like and seldom-seen land-rail
Utters "Craik, craik," like voices underground,
Right glad to meet the evening's dewy veil,
And see the light fade into gloom around.
JOHN CLARE.

RAIN IN SUMMER.

How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat,

In the broad and fiery street,

In the narrow lane,

How beautiful is the rain!

How it clatters along the roofs,

Like the tramp of hoofs!

How it gushes and struggles out

From the throat of the overflowing spout!

Across the window-pane

It pours and pours;

And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,

Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!

The sick man from his chamber looks
At the twisted brooks;

He can feel the cool
Breath of each little pool;
His fevered brain

Grows calm again,

And he breathes a blessing on the rain.

From the neighboring school
Come the boys,

With more than their wonted noise

And commotion;

And down the wet streets

Sail their mimic fleets,

Till the treacherous pool

Ingulfs them in its whirling And turbulent ocean.

In the country, on every side,
Where far and wide,

Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide,
Stretches the plain,

To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain!

In the furrowed land

The toilsome and patient oxen stand;
Lifting the yoke-encumbered head,
With their dilated nostrils spread,
They silently inhale

The clover-scented gale,
And the vapors that arise

From the well-watered and smoking soil.
For this rest in the furrow after toil
Their large and lustrous eyes

Seem to thank the Lord,
More than man's spoken word.

Near at hand,

From under the sheltering trees,
The farmer sees

His pastures, and his fields of grain,

As they bend their tops

To the numberless beating drops

Of the incessant rain.

He counts it as no sin

That he sees therein

Only his own thrift and gain.

These, and far more than these,

The Poet sees!

He can behold

Aquarius old

Walking the fenceless fields of air;