JUNE.
’Tis a truth that earnest students,
With books and nature who commune,
Are in thought and feeling quickened
By the skies and breath of June.
While in boyhood, what could match it?
Schoolmates call so opportune;
“Come with me and range the forest—
Recreate, this day of June.”
Sister-schoolmates, gathering posies,
Stop to hear the red-breast’s tune,
And laugh at pretty squirrels running
Up the trees, in leafy June.
After-life, for prizes striving,
The student toils for lengthened rune—
Spirit (so success) is wafted
To him by the breath of June.
Month of months—let’s sing its praises!
Museum-readers, join the tune—
The freshest leaves, the brightest flowers,
All are thine, sweet month of June.
WORK AND PLAY.
With mamma for a teacher,
’Tis easy to learn;
Her eye gives her boy courage,
As hard pages turn.
She says, “Now, my dear Freddy,
Learn every word right;
If you’re patient, the hard spots
Will vanish from sight.
“When this task is well finished,
Your work will be done;
Then the time comes for playing,
Says every one.
“Your fleet rock-horse is waiting;
And baby shall see.”
Freddy learned well his lessons,
And rides full of glee.
Don’t tell me of to-morrow,
There is much to do to-day,
That can never be accomplished,
If we throw the hours away.
Every moment has its duty—
Who the future can foretell?
Then why put off till to-morrow,
What to-day can do as well?