The Noontide Hour.

I come like an Eastern monarch dight In my crown of beams, in my robe of light; And nature droops at my ardent gaze, And wraps the woods in a purple haze; From my fiery glance the strong man shrinks, Like a babe on the bosom of earth he sinks; Yet cries, as he turns from the glowing ray, "This is a glorious summer day!" Such is manhood's fiery dower, Passion's all-consuming power; Glorious, beautiful, and bright, But too dazzling to the sight!