Save June! Dear June! Now God be praised for June.”
The only fault to be found with this exquisite tribute is that it is rather too much involved to glide melodiously from the lips, or be quite clear to the mind until after a second or third reading. Not so picturesque, but more simple and musical, is this bit,—
“From blossom-clouded orchards, far away
The bobolink tinkled.”
The provincial tongue of Hosea Biglow presents us with the following rare bit of portraiture, which has all the strength and freshness of a painting from Nature:—
“June’s bridesman, poet o’ the year,
Gladness on wings, the bobolink is here;
Half-hid in tip-top apple-bloom he sings,
Or climbs against the breeze with quiverin’ wings,
Or, givin’ way to’t in mock despair,