MOUNTAIN LAUREL. 



Now comes the fullness of the year, 



The flood-tide of a living joy, 

 When never hope admits of fear, 



Nor any pleasures cloy; 

 From birds that stir the meadow grass, 



From winds that sweep the woodland ways, 

 A thousand voices come and pass, 



In chants of love and praise. 



Now swells the forest, calm and wide, 

 In rippling waves of deepest green, 



And all the rugged mountain side 

 Thro billowy curves is seen ; 



The roadsides meet in ample shade, 



With showers of light and golden glooms, 



And bubbling up the rocky ways 



The clustered laurel blooms. 



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