'Soon will the high Midsummer pomps come on, 

 Soon will the musk carnations break and swell, 

 Soon shall we have gold-dusted snapdragon, 

 Sweet- William with his homely cottage smell, 

 And stocks in fragrant blow; 

 Roses that down the alleys shine afar, 

 And open, jasmine-muffled lattices, 

 And groups under the dreaming garden-trees, 

 And the full moon, and the white evening star.*' 

 MATTHEW ARNOLD. 



