Classic Poem

I CHANT the praises of the regal June,
Fair Queen of all the Twelve months' circling sphere,
Hands full of roses, and sweet lips in tune
To all the mirth and music of the year.

How gay and glad you are, fair Lady mine!
How proud of conquered world and lavish sun,
And air that sparkles like celestial wine,
And laughing streams that frolic as they run!

You sow the fields with lilies — wake the choir
Of summer birds to chorus of delight;
Yours is the year's deep rapture — yours the fire
That burns the' West, and ushers in the night —

The short, sweet night — that almost can deceive,
So bright its moon, the birds to sing again,
And fit their morning carols to the eve,
And wake the midnight with the noontide strain.

O June, fair Queen of sunshine and of flowers,
The affluent year will hold you not again —
Once, only once, can Youth and Love be ours,
And after them the autumn and the rain.