File:The school physiology journal (1898) (14589881727).jpg

Identifier: schoolphysiology08bost (find matches)
Title: The school physiology journal
Year: 1898 (1890s)
Authors:
Subjects: Physiology Hygiene Temperance Physiology Hygiene Temperance
Publisher: Boston : Mary H. Hunt
Contributing Library: Francis A. Countway Library of Medicine
Digitizing Sponsor: Open Knowledge Commons and the National Endowment for the Humanities

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OOKS. WE CORDIALLY INVITE YOUR CORRESPONDENCE. GINN & COMPANY, Publishers, BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. ATLANTA. School Physiology Journal Vol. VIII. BOSTON, JUNE, iSgg. No. 10. T JUNE. HE bobolink has come, and like the soulOf the sweet season vocal in a bird, Gurgles in ecstacy we know not what Save June ! Dear June ! Now God be praised for Tune ! Lowell. A JUNE HARMONY. A BIRD in the boughsang June,And June hummed a beeIn a bxcchic gleeAs he tumbled over andoverDrunk with the honey-dew;Then the woods took upthe tuneAnd the rippling runnelstoo,The tune of the bird that sang in the treeAnd the bee that buzzedin the clover. And June cried the leaves in time,Till crickets at nightWith a wild delightSang June to the moon down beaming,June to the moon and stars;And the grasses seemed to chimeWith the musics mellow bars,While butterflies danced with airy flightIn the sun-light amber-gleaming,And the flowers were glad that swayedIn the breeze whose tuneWas forever June. Clinton Scollard.
Text Appearing After Image:
AN IDLERS SONG. HO, when the SummercomesWith his wild lure-songLow - cadenced, wizard-strong,With his cup of berry-juiceThat sets the springs of joy aloose—Shall I not hear his song? I shall idle, hear it all—His song in the bird-notes,and in the winds of dawn. Ho, for the Summers time !Have a care for his wander-rhyme. Youd be surely fey, cold mother Winter,Stay behind your gate !You would lose the way, for mossesHide the pathway from your gate ! Come, Summer! finertales, Older, larger-circled ones; All your last were silver-tongued, Now give me gold. Whisper now, Im listening;Croon when I go to sleep,Laughing, lovely Summer eyes,Im in your glamours fold ! Anne Throop. Summer. Bume-JnneH. LIFE. I^HE limit of life is brief—Tis the red in the red rose leaf,Tis the gold in the sunset sky,Tis the flight of a bird on high.Yet we may fill the space With such an infinite graceThat the red will vein all time,The gold through the ages shine,And the bird fly swift and straightTo the lili

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