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LOVE IN IDLENESS.

LOVE IN IDLENESS.

WHEN comes the beauteous summer time,

And grass grows green once more,
And sparkling brooks the meadows lave

With fertilizing power ;
And when the birds rejoicing sing

Their pleasant songs again,
Filling the vales and woodlands gay

With their enlivening strain ;-
Go not at eve nor morn, fair maids,

Unto the mead alone,

To seek the tender violets blue,

And pluck them for your own;
For there a snake lies hid, whose fangs

May leave untouched the heel,
But not the less,—0, not the less,

Your hearts his power shall feel!

DOET É DE TROIES.

THE END.

PRINTED BY I. ASEMEAD & SON,

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