_The Wild-Rose Thicket_

Where humming flies frequent, and where Pink petals open to the air,

The wild-rose thicket seems to be The summer in epitome.

Amid its gold-green coverts meet The late dew and the noonday heat;

Around it, to the sea-rim harsh, The patient levels of the marsh;

And o’er it the pale heavens bent, Half sufferance and half content.