July.

In the pleasant summer morning,
Hiawatha stood and waited.

All the air was full of freshness,
All the earth was bright and joyous,
And before him, through the sunshine,
Westward toward the neighboring forest
Passed in golden swarms the Ahmo,
Passed the bees, the honey-makers,
Burning, singing in the sunshine.

Bright above him shone the heavens,
Level spread the lake before him;
From its bosom leaped the sturgeon,
Sparkling, flashing in the sunshine;
On its margin the great forest
Stood reflected in the water,
Every tree-top had its shadow,
Motionless beneath the water.

HIAWATHA'S DEPARTURE.

Generations perish, like the leaves of the forest passing away when their mission is completed; but at each succeeding spring, broader and higher spreads the human mind unto its perfect stature, unto the fulfilment of its destiny, unto the perfection of its nature. OUTRE-MER.

Guarding the mountains around
Majestic the forests are standing,
Bright are their crested helms,
Dark is their armor of leaves;
Filled with the breath of freedom
Each bosom subsiding, expanding,
Now like the ocean sinks,

Now like the ocean upheaves.

THE MASQUE OF PANDORA.

JULY 2.

He was not yet in love, but very near it; for he thanked God that he had made such beautiful beings to walk the earth. HYPERION.

As thou sittest in the moonlight there,

Its glory flooding thy golden hair,

And the only darkness that which lies
In the haunted chambers of thine eyes,

I feel my soul drawn unto thee,
Strangely and strongly, and more and more,

As to one I have known and loved before.
THE GOLDEN Legend,

Joseph Hall, 1574.

JULY 2.

The elm-trees reach their long, pendulous branches almost to the ground. White clouds sail aloft ; and vapors fret the blue sky with silver threads.

I will send a prophet to you,

A deliverer of the nations,

HYPERION.

Who shall guide you and shall teach you,
Who shall toil and suffer with you.

If you listen to his counsels,
You will multiply and prosper.

HIAWATHA.

JULY 4.

To such souls no age and no country can be utterly dull and prosaic. They make unto themselves their age and country; dwelling in the universal mind of man, and in the universal forms of things. DRIFT-WOOD.

There in seclusion and remote from men

The wizard hand lies cold,

Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen,

And left the tale half told.

Ah! who shall lift that wand of magic power, And the lost clew regain?

The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower

Unfinished must remain !

HAWTHORNE.