JUNE.

Sweet June, the loveliest child of all the year! With quickened life I hail thy slow return, And feel my torpid soul within me burn, As on the hill-side's verdant slope appear The well-known flowers that mark thy presence near. And not alone am I in loving thee! For Nature dons her richest livery When thou appearest; with a softer blue The sky pavilions earth; the forest's hue Is fresher; and the brooks more merrily Gurgle their slender, changeful melody. Were there a world where thou didst ever reign, And I, alone, could reach it. I would fain Dwell there for aye; nor sigh for earth again!