JUNE.

Here waits the world in silence sweet,

In fields of green and sunshine still,
For June who comes with tripping feet
To set its springtide soul a-thrill.

June is a maiden pure and true,

Whose heart with kindliness o'erflows;
Her tender eyes are heaven's deep blue;
Her cheeks are red, red Jacqueminots.

-Brown Magazine.

THE TROPIC STORM.

The morning sea, fair as love's face is,
A burning calm o'er all the place is,

Amid the palm trees stirs no breath.
Under tall flowers sleep snakes, all yellow,
Each scarlet bird droops by its fellow

No sound, no motion,-dumb as death.

Out from a silence, mute as this is,
The whirlwind, wild, exultant hisses,

Of death and ruin, feeds its fill.

The wind-scourged sea is sobbing, groaning,
And on the land, maimed beasts lie moaning.
Then this, too, dies,-and all is still.

-Trinity Tablet.

A SUMMER SHADOW.

Only a narrow footpath, threading its winding way
Within the old oak forest, among the trees so gray;

Far from the noise of the village, away from the busy street,
Where twilight shadows linger, a calm and cool retreat.

Only a trail in the woodland, and many such there be,
But somehow this one differs from all the rest to me,
Why do I love to linger, and muse when the sunsets fade,
And stroll in this old footpath in the quiet evening shade?

Oh! would you know the reason this way is so dear to me,
And why I have learned to cherish each fern, and bush, and tree?
Because in the early Summer I did not walk alone,

And here I won the maiden whose heart is all mine own.

Lonely and sad I wander to think she is far away,

I miss her, oh! so deeply, through many a Summer day;
But since she knows I love her, I'll try to patient be,

Till in the Autumn twilight she may walk once more with me.

-Brunonian.

I very soon forgot to wear

My doctor's mien imperious.

I called upon her thrice a day,
(For sprains are often serious).
Her merry eyes had made a wound
In my poor heart to rankle,
And so I still kept up my calls—
To ask about the ankle.

She owned one day she felt so strange,
Could I prescribe a tonic?

She did not sleep, was oft depressed.

Oh, was it something chronic?

She wasn't like herself at all,

What made her feel so altered?
-"Perhaps a doctor's constant care?"—
But here I blushed and faltered.

Then growing bolder: "Love," I cried.
"Can cure all youth's disorders."
She shyly said: "I put myself
Beneath my doctor's orders."

-Vassar Miscellany.

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