 | Gen. Albert Pike's poems |  |
274
JUIN.
June! with her lap wealthy with golden fruit;Young frolic June, under the green trees sleeping!
Her small head pillowed on a mossy root,
And on a snowy arm; one rosy foot,
Half-hidden, through the enamored flowers is peeping;
The cool west-wind, with rapture almost mute,
Sings a low tune; and gliding softly there,
The timid sunshine kisses her sweet face,
And turns the thick cloud of her soft dark hair
Into a glory. Lo! she wakes, and grace
And beauty breathe in every movement. Where,
In all the world, in what most fortunate place,
Is face more lovely, eyes that brighter shine?
Where shall we find a peer for Caroline?
| Gen. Albert Pike's poems | |