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62

XXVIII. ONE JUNE-DAY

O Love that hast within thy kingly store
Junes numberless, and canst bestow their bloom
Just where thou willest, raising from their tomb
The flower-white ghosts of Junes that came before
And June-sweet ghosts of flowers that died of yore,—
Filling green aisles of gardens with perfume
And spectral blossom-wings that through the gloom
Sail, flinging marvel round them as they soar:—
O Love that hast within thy kingly hand
All dead June-days and perfect Junes to be,
Wilt thou not spare one sweet June-day to me,
And let my gentle love beside me stand
While step by step the shifting hour-glass' sand
Gives air and bloom and sunlight back to thee?