Bright with the thoughts of coming holiday,

Full well determined to enjoy it while they may.[2]

[2]

II.

They were the days when all who care to wander

O'er the rude mountain or the fertile plain,

Must snatch the chance, and rush here, there and yonder,

And pack their baggage off by early train,

To rest the busy over-anxious brain,

And take to interests altogether new.

Some tear to Italy, and some to Spain,

For beneficial air and change of view;

What everybody does that I must also do.

III.

The sun was scorching, and the streets were dusty,—

Suburban roadways generally are,—

And everything seemed disagreeably “fusty,”

Merely because there was no watering car.

It was the weather when we feel at war

With all around and everyone we meet;

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