THE PROPOSAL.
BY L. E. L.
The summer sun looks laughing through the bough
Thick with the clustering leaves; a thousand flowers
Open their bright eyes to the fanning wind;
Songs are upon the air—a general song,
Many in one—the linnet and the thrush
Join with the blackbird in sweet unison.
All places are now fair, but far most fair
Is a lone garden by the river's side—
A garden of the ancient times, adorned
With quaint devices; branches cut in shapes
Of courtly fashion; and with terraces
Where foreign plants are ranged, and greenhouse flowers:
The white camelia in soft ivory carved—
The cactus, like a shining serpent, wreathed
With a red crown of rubies—orange trees
With small gold fruits, and buds that are like snow.
On such a terrace stands the maiden here:
