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JUNE.
JUNE.
A radiant wealth of golden stills,
A tender azure sky,
A wind whose touch is sweet and soft
As breaths of Araby;
Nights luminous with twinkling stars,—
Heaven's lamps of crystal bright,—
While over all the moon pours down
Her flood of silver light.
A tender azure sky,
A wind whose touch is sweet and soft
As breaths of Araby;
Nights luminous with twinkling stars,—
Heaven's lamps of crystal bright,—
While over all the moon pours down
Her flood of silver light.
The clover-blooms on meadow-lands
Scent all the ambient air,
And crimson roses lavish forth
Their odors sweetly rare;
The 'chestnut-trees droop heavily
With weight of verdant leaves,
And through the cool shade of their boughs
The west wind's spirit breathes.
Scent all the ambient air,
And crimson roses lavish forth
Their odors sweetly rare;
The 'chestnut-trees droop heavily
With weight of verdant leaves,
And through the cool shade of their boughs
The west wind's spirit breathes.
A white mist shrouds the distant lake
In a soft, fleecy veil,
And hides the lilies floating there,
The lilies pure and pale;
The crickets chant beneath the grass
A lonesome, weird refrain,
Like the slow beating on the turf
Of the autumnal rain.
In a soft, fleecy veil,
And hides the lilies floating there,
The lilies pure and pale;
The crickets chant beneath the grass
A lonesome, weird refrain,
Like the slow beating on the turf
Of the autumnal rain.
