Classic Poem

Some glad thing comes to me
Always in June,
Some new joy gladly set
To a sweet tune.

Is it that earth so thrills
With bud and bloom,
That the sad heart of life
Lets go its gloom?

Some dear long absent face
Answers some prayers,
Or may be just a token
That some one cares.

Some glad thing hidden long
In some old room,
Says, “Let us go to her,
For it is June.

“Why cheat her any more,
For we are hers,
Unlock the dusty door,
My being stirs

“With longing to behold
A human face,
And with a touch of joy
Add some new grace.”

Far back in earth's grey dawn,
Before God's words
Had crystalized in suns,
Or stars had heard.

That clear creative call,
“Let there be light
On all My works below,
For day and night”—

When first earth's wrinkled face
Saw the white moon
Gleam on unfinished work,
There was no June,—

But as the thoughts of God
Shewed perfect spheres,
We think He called up June
To gem the years!

When we are inward drawn
To God's dear heart,
And the white silence falls
As we depart,

And the new air seems filled
With some rare tune,
How sweet our last earth-look
If it were June!