JULY 171 



than the gardens of the present, so past joys seem like the 

 never-returning blossoms grown in the gardens of yester-year! 

 But now that the wealth of July fills our gardens with flowers, 

 let us revel in the delights they afford us.- 



Wake ! O zephyr of morn, 

 Softly in the dawnlight born ; 

 Gently touch the leafy trees, 

 Tender, fragrant, summer breeze, 

 Scattering laughter everywhere 

 With a kiss of sweetness rare, 

 Wooing meadow-blossoms fair. 



Over the meadows dew-impearled, 

 Where the dawn flowers are unfurled, 



Hastening over sunlit leas, 



Merry, merry, summer breeze. 



Gently, calmly, breeze of night, 

 Die away in sweet delight. 

 Now the sunlight doth forsake 

 All the world, and stars awake. 

 Daylight pauses on night's verge, 

 Into night the eve doth merge, 

 Softly sighs the stream a dirge. 



Stars are born night's diadem ; 

 Leafy trees sing requiem, 



At the eventide for thee, 



Softly, sweetly, tenderly ! 



