230 ° SELECT POETRY

And then the fruit! the glowing fruit, how sweet
the scent it breathes !

I love to see its crimson cheek rest on the bright
green leaves !

Summer's own gift of luxury, in which the poor
may share,

The wild-wood fruit my eager eye is seeking every-
where.

Oh! summer is a pleasant time, with all its sounds
and sights ;

Its dewy mornings, balmy eves, and tranquil calm
delights ;

I sigh when first I see the leaves fall yellow on the

lain,

And ‘all the winter long I sing— Sweet summer,

come again !”

THE GLOW-WORM.
YROM THE LATIN OF VINCENT BOURNE.

BenxaTH the hedge, or near the stream,
A worm is known to stray,

That shows by night a lucid beam,
Which disappears by day.

Disputes have been, and still prevail,
From whence its rays proceed ;

Some give that honour to his tail,
And others to his head.

But this is sure,—the hand of Night,
That kindles up the skies,

Gives him a modicum of light,
Proportioned to his size.