June
O, Comrade, cease your moaning strain! away with dull complaining!
Leave this groaning over frosty pows, and start a cheerier tune.
I'll sing old times together, five-and-thirty snows disdaining;
Wintry weather holds the woodland now; but sing our youth,—and June!
Sing June: and lo! the morning beams across the wooded ridges,
(Without warning comes our dayspring, and it fades, alas! how soon!)
See, again to yonder willows stretch a myriad magic bridges,—
Sun-kissed billows, luring onward. 'Tis youth,—and morn,—and June!
Sing of the stately river, flowing swiftly, ever flowing,
With the quiver of warm breezes all the long, long afternoon.
Sing two happy lads a-roaming (Ah! how endless seemed that going!)
From Wyoming Hill to Gurley's Point.—O pleasant days of June!
Sing of the white mist lifting,—of the starlight faintly beaming;
Tell of drifting through the splendor of the mild midsummer moon.
Sing the glinting, rippling reaches, with the sand-bar, ghostly gleaming;
Sing the beaches golden-glowing. O the glorious nights of June!
Days and nights returning never, and the Friend who waits not for me!
Gone forever! Gone forever!—hear the mocking echoes croon.
Yet from some bright realm Elysian comes this radiant fancy o'er me,
And the vision brings my youth again, and home, and Thee, and June.
Leave this groaning over frosty pows, and start a cheerier tune.
I'll sing old times together, five-and-thirty snows disdaining;
Wintry weather holds the woodland now; but sing our youth,—and June!
Sing June: and lo! the morning beams across the wooded ridges,
(Without warning comes our dayspring, and it fades, alas! how soon!)
See, again to yonder willows stretch a myriad magic bridges,—
Sun-kissed billows, luring onward. 'Tis youth,—and morn,—and June!
Sing of the stately river, flowing swiftly, ever flowing,
With the quiver of warm breezes all the long, long afternoon.
Sing two happy lads a-roaming (Ah! how endless seemed that going!)
From Wyoming Hill to Gurley's Point.—O pleasant days of June!
Sing of the white mist lifting,—of the starlight faintly beaming;
Tell of drifting through the splendor of the mild midsummer moon.
Sing the glinting, rippling reaches, with the sand-bar, ghostly gleaming;
Sing the beaches golden-glowing. O the glorious nights of June!
Days and nights returning never, and the Friend who waits not for me!
Gone forever! Gone forever!—hear the mocking echoes croon.
Yet from some bright realm Elysian comes this radiant fancy o'er me,
And the vision brings my youth again, and home, and Thee, and June.
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