JUNE. BY WILLIAM HENRY BURLEIGH. JUNE, with its roses-June! The gladdest month of our capricious year, Of the bright leaping waters, as they pass Earth, at her joyous coming, Smiles as she puts her gayest mantle on ; While myriad voices, humming Their welcome song, breathe dreamy music round, Till seems the air an element of sound. The overarching sky Weareth a softer tint, a lovelier blue, As if the light of heaven were melting through Its sapphire home on high; Q Hiding the sunshine in their vapory breast, A deeper melody, Poured by the birds, as o'er their callow young Music heart-born, like that which mothers sing On the warm hill-side, where The sunlight lingers latest, through the grass Crushing the gathered fruit in playful mood, A deeper blush is given To the half-ripened cherry, as the sun Day after day pours warmth the trees upon, The truant school-boy looks with longing eyes. The farmer, in his field, Draws the rich mould around the tender maize; While Hope, bright-pinioned, points to coming days, JUNE. When all his toil shall yield An ample harvest, and around his hearth There shall be laughing eyes and tones of mirth. Poised on his rainbow wing, The butterfly, whose life is but an hour, Born for the sunshine and the summer day, These are thy pictures, June! 147 Brightest of summer months-thou month of flowers! First-born of Beauty, whose swift-footed hours Dance to the merry tune Of birds, and waters, and the pleasant shout I feel it were not wrong To deem thou art a type of Heaven's clime, The flowers-air-beauty-music-all are thine, But brighter-purer-lovelier-more divine! TO MAY. BY JONATHAN LAWRENCE, JR. COME, gentle May! Come with thy robe of flowers, Come with thy sun and sky, thy clouds and showers, From their imprisoning and mysterious night, Come, wondrous May! For at the bidding of thy magic wand, Quick from the caverns of the breathing land, They spring, as spring the Persian maids to hail Come, vocal May! Come with thy train, that high On some fresh branch pour out their melody, Come, sunny May! Come with thy laughing beam, What time the lazy mist melts on the stream, Come, holy May! When sunk behind the cold and western hill, Come, beautiful May! Like youth and loveliness Like her I love; oh, come in thy full dress, Yet, lovely May! Teach her whose eye shall rest upon this rhyme spurn the gilded mockeries of time, The heartless pomp that beckons to betray, And keep as thou wilt find that heart each year, Pure as thy dawn, and as thy sunset clear. |