June

Month of leaves, and month of roses,
     Loveliest of the circling year, 
Calmly Nature's self reposes, 
     While thou lingerest here.

Bright o'er valley, plain and mountain, 
     Thou hast flung thy mantle green;
Gaily now, from many a fountain,
     Glides the stream unseen.

Songs of praises, never ceasing, 
     From the forest warblers rise, 
Louder, sweeter, still increasing,
     To the vaulted skies.

All the face of Nature blooming,
     Tells with sweet and silent voice
Of the rich abundance coming,
     Bidding us rejoice.

Welcome! welcome, rose-lipp'd Summer!
     Laughing maidens bless thy birth;
Joy go with thee, gentle comer 
     O'er the blushing earth!

Hope is kindled into gladness,
     And the smile of Pleasure wreathes
Round the pallid lip of Sadness,
     As thy soft wind breathes.

Nature's lyre, that wind is sweeping 
     To its merriest, sweetest tune, 
And a holy calm is sleeping 
     On the hills of June.

Be the spirit a partaker
     Of thy chastened joy and high—
Pure, to bend before its Maker,
     As thy cloudless sky.