THE scattered stars less brightly shine,

At length, upon the earth below,

And Night, o'ercome by new-born Day,

Withdraws her vagrant fires' glow.

Phosphorus drives his gleaming flock;

The icy sign of northern sky, -

The Arcade Bears of seven stars

Recall their light and turn to fly.

Titan looks out o'er Octan heights,

Slow rising up midst waves of blue,

And thickets, hung with Bacchus' fruit,

In opening day gleam bright with rue.

Diana, turning, flees the light,

And hides her face before the day;

While e'en the drifted, fleecy clouds

Blush bright before his searching ray.

The careful shepherd foldward goes

To count his eager charge anew,

Then plucks the fodder, while his flock

Are loosed upon the cold white dew.

With great, ungainly gambols, too,

The bullock runs through opened door,

And sober cows, with placid mien,

Renew their kindly, creamy store.

The sailor, doubting through the night,

Now trusts his canvas to the breeze;

The fisher baits his guileful hooks,

And tries again the treasured seas,

The rural world in quiet peace

Thus pass their days, nor think of harm;

Their homes, though mean, are all their own,

Nor strife nor turmoil brings alarm.

Yes, here is Peace! Let him who longs

For space to shun the world's vain cares,

Come seek it here, and leave behind

Life's weary toils, and griefs, and snares.

J. B. D.