JUNE.
SUMMER.
The summer-time has come again,
With all its light and mirth,
And June leads on the laughing hours
To bless the weary earth.
The sunshine lies along the street,
So dim and cold before,
And in the open window creeps,
And slumbers on the floor.
The country was so fresh and fine,
And beautiful in May,
It must be more than beautiful—
A Paradise to-day!
If I were only there again,
I’d seek the lanes apart,
And shout aloud in mighty words,
To ease my happy heart.
R. H. Stoddard.