The months that touch, with added grace,

This little prattler at my knee,

In whose arch eye and speaking face

New meaning every hour I see.

Bryant

Reprinted from Bryant's Complete Poetical Works by permission of D. Appleton & Co.

JUNE TWENTY-FIFTH

Come to me, O ye children!

And whisper in my ear

What the birds and the winds are singing

In your sunny atmosphere.

Longfellow

JUNE TWENTY-SIXTH

The adorable, sweet, living, marvellous,

Strange light that lightens us

Who gaze, desertless of such grace,

Full in a babe's warm face.

Swinburne

JUNE TWENTY-SEVENTH

Do not think the youth has no force because he

can not speak to you and me.

Emerson

JUNE TWENTY-EIGHTH

Birds in the night, that softly call,

Winds in the night, that strangely sigh,

Come to me, help me, one and all,

And murmur baby's lullaby.

Lionel H. Lewin