460 JUNE. 
For thy skies are bright and blue, 
As a sapphire’s brilliant hue, 
And the heats of Summer noon, 
Made cooler by thy breath— 
O’er the clover-scented heath, 
Which the scythe must sweep so soon ; 
And thou fann’st the fevered cheek 
With thy softest gales of balm, 
Till the pulse so low and weak 
Beateth stronger and more calm. 
And the student’s listless air, 
As a dreamy sound and dear, 
Hath caught a pleasant murmur of the insect’s busy hum 
Where arching branches meet, 
O’er the turf beneath his feet. 
And a tnousand Summer fancies with the melody have como 
And he turneth from the page 
Of the prophet or the sage, 
And forgetteth all the wisdom of his books, 
For his heart is roving free 
With the butterfly and bee, 
And chimeth with the music of the brooks, 
Singing still their merry tune 
In the flashing light of noon, 
One chord of thy sweet lyre, 
Laughing June ! 
A glimpse thou art of Heaven, 
Lovely June 1 
