Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 1, July 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 1, July 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
I leave thee to thy happiness,
As one too near to love—
As one I’ll think of but to bless,
While wretchedly I rove;
And oh! when sorrow’s cup I drink,
All bitter though it be;
How sweet to me ’twill be to think
It holds no drop for thee.
Then fare thee well! an exile now,
Without a friend or home;
With anguish written on my brow
About the world I roam;
For all my dreams of bliss are o’er—
Fate bade them all depart—
And I must leave my native shore
In brokenness of heart.
* * * * *
[Illustration: =THE VINTAGE.= (See page 29.)]
GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
* * * * *
Vol. XLI. PHILADELPHIA, JULY, 1852. No. 1.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
=SUMMER.=
Summer is here, and her whole world of wealth is spread out before us in
prodigal array. “The woods and groves have darkened and thickened into
one impervious mass of sober, uniform green; and having, for a while,
ceased to exercise the more active functions of the Spring, are resting
from their labors in that state of ‘wise passiveness’ which we, in
virtue of our infinitely greater wisdom, know so little how to enjoy. In
Winter the trees may be supposed to sleep in a state of insensible
inactivity, and in Spring to be laboring with the flood of new life that
is pressing through their veins, and forcing them to perform the offices
attached to their existence. But in Summer, having reached the middle
term of their annual life, they pause in their appointed course, and
then, if ever, taste the nourishment they take in, and ‘enjoy the air
they breathe.’ And he who, sitting in Summer time beneath the shade of a
spreading tree, can see its branches fan the soft breeze as it passes,
and hear its polished leaves whisper and twitter to each other like
birds at love-making, and yet can feel any thing like an assurance that
it does not enjoy its existence, knows little of the tenure by which he
holds his own.”
The animal creation seem oppressed with languor during this hot season,
and either seek the recesses of woods, or resort to pools and streams,
to cool their bodies and quench their thirst.
[Illustration]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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