June.
Indeed I feel as if I came too soon
To round your young May moon,
And set the world a-gasping at my noon,
Yet must I come. So here are strawberries,
Sun-flushed and sweet, as many as you please;
And there are full-blown roses by the score,
More roses and yet more.
(May, eating strawberries, withdraws among the flower beds.)
June.