 | [O June, sweet June, in Through the Year with the Poets] June |  |
101
O JUNE, SWEET JUNE.
My heart within me is singing a tune.
Its echo is ever, “O June, sweet June!
The sun's in the valley, the bloom on the brier!”
And lo, the dead leaves that the autumn had strewn
O'er a grave, give way to the blossoms' desire.
Its echo is ever, “O June, sweet June!
The sun's in the valley, the bloom on the brier!”
And lo, the dead leaves that the autumn had strewn
O'er a grave, give way to the blossoms' desire.
From the heart of the earth there is warbled a tune.
Its cadence ever is, “June, leafy June!
Dead leaves shall crumble and vanish in fire;
But the souls that with courage and grief commune
Shall never in music or flame expire!”
Its cadence ever is, “June, leafy June!
Dead leaves shall crumble and vanish in fire;
But the souls that with courage and grief commune
Shall never in music or flame expire!”
| [O June, sweet June, in Through the Year with the Poets] June | |