Summer Studies. II.

Over the farm is brooding silence now -     No reaper's song - no raven's clangor harsh -     No bleat of sheep - no distant low of cow -     No croak of frogs within the spreading marsh -     No bragging cock from litter'd farm-yard crows,     The scene is steep'd in silence and repose.     A trembling haze hangs over all the fields -     The panting cattle in the river stand     Seeking the coolness which its wave scarce yields.     It seems a Sabbath thro' the drowsy land:     So hush'd is all beneath the Summer's spell,     I pause and listen for some faint church bell.     The leaves are motionless - the song-bird's mute -     The very air seems somnolent and sick:     The spreading branches with o'er-ripen'd fruit     Show in the sunshine all their clusters thick,     While now and then a mellow apple falls     With a dull sound within the orchard's walls.     The sky has but one solitary cloud,     Like a dark island in a sea of light;     The parching furrows 'twixt the corn-rows ploughed     Seem fairly dancing in my dazzled sight,     While over yonder road a dusty haze     Grows reddish purple in the sultry blaze.