JUNE 



'The pinks along my garden wall 

 Have all shot forth their summer stalks, 

 Thronging their buds 'mong tulips hot, 



And blue forget-me-not. 

 Their dazzling snows forth bursting soon 

 Will lade the idle breath of June ; 

 And waken thro' the fragrant night 



To steal the pale moonlight. 

 The nightingale at end of May 

 Lingers each year for their display ; 

 Till when he sees their blossom blown, 



He knows the spring is flown. 

 June's birth they greet, and when their bloom 

 Dislustres, withering on his tomb, 

 Then Summer hath a shortening day ; 



And steps slow to decay.' 



Robert Bridges, Garden Signs. 



'Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; 

 In a cowslip's bell I lie : 

 There I couch when owls do cry ; 

 On the bat's back I do fly 

 After Summer merrily. 

 Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, 

 Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.' 



Shakespeare, AriePs Song. 



