THE JULY PAGEANT. 
Morn in the white wake of the morning star 
Came furrowing all the orient into gold. 
It was the deep midnoon :— 
And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, 
Violet, amaracus and asphodel, 
Lotos and lilies. 
The charmed sunset lingered low adown 
In the red West. 
—TENNYSON. 
The clouds, like stately argosies, move slowly across 
the summer sky, and the cloud-shadows darken the 
green hillsides and the deep meadows, where the tall 
grasses are bending in long waves under the gentle 
breeze. Swallows, on unwearied wing, are floating in 
wide circles in the upper regions of the air or are skim- 
ming the flashing surface of the pool in the intricate 
mazes of their flight. A flock of redwing - blackbirds, 
