A JUNE DAY.

The Owl that, watching in the barn,
Sees the mouse creeping in the corn,
Sits still, and shuts his round blue eyes
As if he slept,-until he spies

The little beast within his stretch

Then starts, and seizes on the wretch!

A JUNE DAY.

BUTLER.

HO has not dream'd a world of bliss,

On a bright sunny noon like this,
Couch'd by his native brook's green maze,

With comrade of his boyish days,

While all around them seem'd to be

Just as in joyous infancy?

Who has not loved, at such an hour,

Upon that heath, in birchen bower, Lull'd in the poet's dreamy mood,

Its wild and sunny solitude?