1 O June, O June, that we desire so, 

 Wilt thou not make us happy on this day ? 

 Across the river thy soft breezes blow 

 Sweet with the scent of bean-fields far away, 

 Above our heads rustle the aspens grey, 

 Calm is the sky with harmless clouds beset, 

 No thought of storm the morning vexes yet.' 



William Morris. 



