The sun does all my long day’s work for me,
Raises and ripens everything;
I need but sit beneath a leafy tree
And watch and sing.
(Seats herself in the shadow of a laburnum.)
Or if I’m lulled by note of bird and bee,
Or lulled by noontide’s silence deep,
I need but nestle down beneath my tree
And drop asleep.
(June falls asleep; and is not awakened by the voice of July, who behind the scenes is heard half singing, half calling.)