JUNE

BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

AND what is so rare as a day in June?

Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,

And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might,

An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light,

Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;

The flush of life may well be seen

Thrilling back over hills and valleys;
The cowslip startles in meadows green,

The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
Ånd there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean
To be some happy creature's palace;
The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,

And lets his illumined being o'errun

With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,

And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest
In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?
Now is the high-tide of the year,

And whatever of life hath ebbed away

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Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,

Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it,
We are happy now because God wills it;

No matter how barren the past may have been,
'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;

We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;

The breeze comes whispering in our ear,

That dandelions are blossoming near,

That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,
That the river is bluer than the sky,

That the robin is plastering his house hard by;
And if the breeze kept the good news back,
For other couriers we should not lack;

We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing,
And hark! how clear bold chanticleer,
Warmed with the new wine of the year,
Tells all in his lusty crowing!

Vision of Sir Launfal.

1. Write from memory the lines of the poem that make the most pleasing picture.

2. What evidences does Lowell give that June is the “high-tide of the year"? Does he omit any that you can think of?

3. In the following lines use your own words to explain what is meant: 3-4, 15-16, 21-23, page 16; 3–6, 15, 16-17, 19-21, page 17.

S. H. R. SIXTH-2

A

SONG OF THE RIVER

BY ABRAM J. RYAN

RIVER went singing adown to the sea,

A-singing, low, singing,

And the dim, rippling river said softly to me,

"I'm bringing, a-bringing

While floating along

A beautiful song

To the shores that are white, where the waves are so weary, To the beach that is burdened with wrecks that are dreary.

"A song sweet and calm

As the peacefullest psalm,

And the shore that was sad

Will be grateful and glad,

And the weariest wave from its weariest dream
Will wake to the sound of the song of the stream,

And the tempests shall cease,

And there shall be peace.'

From the fairest of fountains
And the farthest of mountains,
From the stillness of snow

Came the stream in its flow;

Down the slopes where the rocks are gray,

Through the vales where the flowers are fair,

Where the sunlight flashed - where the shadows lay
Like stories that cloud a face of care.

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Day and night, and night and day;
Going and going, and never gone,

Longing to flow to the far away.
Staying and staying, and never still,
Going and staying, as if one will

Said, "Beautiful river, go to the sea,

And another will whispered, "Stay with me";
And the river made answer, soft and low,
"I go and stay." "I stay and go."

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1. Read aloud what the river said to the poet.
2. The river was of two minds.

Which did it do?

What did each will it to do?

3. Describe the river's course by reading aloud the lines that tell of its source; its breaking out of the highlands; its travels in the lowlands; its mouth.

IO

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FERN SONG

BY JOHN B. TABB

ANCE to the beat of the rain, little Fern,

DAN

And spread out your palms again,

And say, "Though the Sun

Hath my vesture spun,

He had labored, alas, in vain,

But for the shade

That the Cloud hath made,

And the gift of the Dew and the Rain."

Then laugh and upturn

All your fronds, little Fern,

And rejoice in the beat of the rain!

Used by permission of the publishers, Small, Maynard & Company.)

CAMPING IN THE WINTER WILDERNESS

Ο

BY H. O. TEMPLETON

NE winter several years ago I decided to do some trapping up in northern Maine. During October, when I was guiding a sportsman on a moose-hunting trip, I had seen a great many signs of fisher, lynx, fox, and bear, and so I bought food for about five months and included s blankets and clothing with my traps. Before freezing weather came I loaded all my duffel into a canoe and started for Musquacook Lakes, about ninety miles distant. It took me ten days to go in, as there were several long portages where I had to tote everything in packs over 10 rough trails.

I finally reached my trapping ground and selected for my camp site a sheltered spot near a good spring. It was on the north shore of a small lake, well shielded from the north winds, and there was plenty of bright sunshine in the 1s daytime. The camp I made of spruce trees chopped down and cut in twelve-foot and sixteen-foot lengths. I laid the largest logs at the bottom and notched them at either end to receive the next log, and so on up until the walls were seven feet high; then I laid up several end logs, each of 20 which was shorter than the last, to receive a log lengthwise of the camp, and in that way the roof was soon finished.

My next job was to cover the roof. I found some large straight-grained cedars, cut them into three-foot lengths, and split these short pieces into boards, thin, flat, and 25 smooth, known as "splits." These I put on the roof like