JUNE.

The pretty flowers have come again, The roses and the daisies; And from the trees, oh, hear how plain The birds are singing praises! The grass is fresh and green once more; The sky is clear and sunny; And bees are laying in a store Of pure and golden honey. The little modest buttercup, The dandelion splendid, Their heads are bravely holding up, Now winter's reign is ended. How charming now our walks will be By meadows full of clover, Through shady lanes, where we can see The branches bending over! The flowers are blooming fresh and bright In just the same old places, And oh, it fills me with delight To see their charming faces. The air is sweet, the sky is blue, The woods with songs are ringing; And I'm so happy, that I, too, Can hardly keep from singing.