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WILLIAM AND MARY HOWITT.

WILLIAM HOWITT was born in Heanor, Der- | byshire, in 1795. MARY BOTHAM was born in Uttoxeter in 1804. They were members of the Society of Friends, and married in 1823. After a tour through Great Britain on foot, they devoted themselves to literature, and they have produced a large number of books, many of them being written jointly. The first of these was "The Forest Minstrel, and other Poems," published in 1823. In 1840 they went to Germany

for the education of their children. In 1852-54 Mr. Howitt was a gold-miner in Australia. Mrs. Howitt has written many books for the young, which have enjoyed great popularity, and has made translations from the German, Swedish, and Danish. Two of their daughters also have embarked in authorship. Of the following poems, "A June Day" and "The Departure of the Swallow," are by William Howitt; the others are by Mary.

A JUNE DAY.

WHO has not dreamed a world of bliss
On a bright sunny noon like this,
Couched by his native brooks's green maze,
With comrade of his boyish days,

While all around them seemed to be

Just as in joyous infancy?

Who has not loved at such an hour,
Upon that heath, in birchen bower,
Lulled in the poet's dreamy mood,
Its wild and sunny solitude?
While o'er the waste of purple ling
You mark a sultry glimmering;
Silence herself there seems to sleep,
Wrapped in a slumber long and deep,
Where slowly stray those lonely sheep
Through the tall foxglove's crimson bloom,
And gleaming of the scattered broom.
Love you not, then, to list and hear
The crackling of the gorse-flowers near,
Pouring an orange-scented tide
Of fragrance o'er the desert wide?
To hear the buzzard's whimpering shrill,
Hovering above you high and still?
The twittering of the bird that dwells
Among the heath's delicious bells?
While round your bed, o'er fern and blade,
Insects in green and gold arrayed,

The sun's gay tribes have lightly strayed;
And sweeter sound their humming wings
Than the proud minstrel's echoing strings.

THE DEPARTURE OF THE SWALLOW.
AND is the swallow gone?

Who beheld it?
Which way sailed it?
Farewell bade it none?

No mortal saw it go;

But who doth hear
Its summer cheer
As it flitteth to and fro?

So the freed spirit flies!
From its surrounding clay
It steals away.

Like the swallow from the skies.

Whither? wherefore doth it go? 'Tis all unknown;

We feel alone

That avoid is left below.

SUMMER WOODS.

COME ye into the summer woods;
There entereth no annoy;
All greenly wave the chestnut-leaves,
And the earth is full of joy.

I cannot tell you half the sights
Of beauty you may see,
The bursts of golden sunshine,
And many a shady tree.

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