JULY.

JULY.ByERIC BROAD.Nowis the noon of summer’s sweet contentO’er field and hedgerow, valley and high hill;And hushed the music of the laughing rillWhose strength is stolen and whose song is spent!With anxious twitter all the birds lamentThe sudden gloom; the air grows strangely still.Vague murmurs all the valley seem to fill;The sun is blotted from the firmament.Hark! tis the diapason of God’s organ rolledThrough all the field of stars; chord follows chordThe march triumphant of our Blessed Lord,Who rides the sky in chariot of gold;And then the gloom is rent; with swift accordThe beams, with golden arms, our forms enfold!

ByERIC BROAD.

Nowis the noon of summer’s sweet contentO’er field and hedgerow, valley and high hill;And hushed the music of the laughing rillWhose strength is stolen and whose song is spent!With anxious twitter all the birds lamentThe sudden gloom; the air grows strangely still.Vague murmurs all the valley seem to fill;The sun is blotted from the firmament.Hark! tis the diapason of God’s organ rolledThrough all the field of stars; chord follows chordThe march triumphant of our Blessed Lord,Who rides the sky in chariot of gold;And then the gloom is rent; with swift accordThe beams, with golden arms, our forms enfold!

Nowis the noon of summer’s sweet contentO’er field and hedgerow, valley and high hill;And hushed the music of the laughing rillWhose strength is stolen and whose song is spent!With anxious twitter all the birds lamentThe sudden gloom; the air grows strangely still.Vague murmurs all the valley seem to fill;The sun is blotted from the firmament.Hark! tis the diapason of God’s organ rolledThrough all the field of stars; chord follows chordThe march triumphant of our Blessed Lord,Who rides the sky in chariot of gold;And then the gloom is rent; with swift accordThe beams, with golden arms, our forms enfold!

Nowis the noon of summer’s sweet contentO’er field and hedgerow, valley and high hill;And hushed the music of the laughing rillWhose strength is stolen and whose song is spent!With anxious twitter all the birds lamentThe sudden gloom; the air grows strangely still.Vague murmurs all the valley seem to fill;The sun is blotted from the firmament.

Nowis the noon of summer’s sweet content

O’er field and hedgerow, valley and high hill;

And hushed the music of the laughing rill

Whose strength is stolen and whose song is spent!

With anxious twitter all the birds lament

The sudden gloom; the air grows strangely still.

Vague murmurs all the valley seem to fill;

The sun is blotted from the firmament.

Hark! tis the diapason of God’s organ rolledThrough all the field of stars; chord follows chordThe march triumphant of our Blessed Lord,Who rides the sky in chariot of gold;And then the gloom is rent; with swift accordThe beams, with golden arms, our forms enfold!

Hark! tis the diapason of God’s organ rolled

Through all the field of stars; chord follows chord

The march triumphant of our Blessed Lord,

Who rides the sky in chariot of gold;

And then the gloom is rent; with swift accord

The beams, with golden arms, our forms enfold!


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