AT MORNINGTIME. 



ARCHER. 



In a sweet vale, through which a crystal stream 



Wound 'mid green banks where clustering blossoms hung; 



Then on thro' woodlands where the branches spread 



Their leafy canopy to hide the sun 



In early spring, at morningtime I strayed. 



The dew like diamonds sparkled on the grass, 



As brightly in the east uprose the sun; 



That turned to silver all the shining stream. 



Then sweet the wild bird sang its morning song; 



Far overhead the cawing of the crow 



Was heard, as swaying on the branching elm, 



Or sailing high in the clear heaven of light. 



At times the wild bird from the dewy grass, 



Abrupt, on rapid wing, with startled cry 



Sought the deep covert of the wood; and then, 



Anon, the active trout would leap to catch 



The gaudy fly that glanced with brilliant color 



In the sun; and gleamed its silvery side. 



The pathway ran by margin of the stream, 



That wound in graceful curves past stately elms, 



Then deepening into pools that overbrimmed, 



And foamed in rapids o'er the pebbly bed; 



Now in the shade of the deep forest where 



The morning mists still hung beneath the boughs 



That arched so grandly o'er the rushing flood. 



Oft here where deepening pools in sombre shade 



With glassy surface, mirror bright and calm, 



With cautious tread, advancing near the brink, 



The rod elastic firmly held in hand, 



That swayed so freely to the lightest touch, 



Casting the fly deceptive o'er the brook 



'Till strikes the active trout the deadly lure 



And sends a quiver through the angler's nerve. 



Struck hard he swirls the water as he plays, 



Then rushing to the pool's dark depths he seeks 



To break from off the ever tightening line; 



Then quick rebounding with a mighty rush 



He springs into the air, his speckled sides 



In brilliance flashing to the eager eye. 



How bends the pliant rod as active runs 



And leaps the captive and excited trout. 



Secured at last upon the bank he lies 



All gorgeous in his rainbow tinted dyes. 



Our flag the gentle breeze doth fan 

 Above the town of San Juan; 



It floated there since Tuesday's dawn 

 Above the castle of San Juan. 



— Cleveland Plain Dealer. 



265 



