Hail! Fairy Queen, adorned with flowers,
Attended by the smiling hours,
'Tis thine to dress the rosy bowers
In colours gay;
We love to wander in thy train,
To meet thee on the fertile plain,
To bless thy soft, propitious reign,
O lovely May!
'Tis thine to dress the vale anew
In fairest verdure bright with dew,
And harebells of the mildest blue
Smile in thy way;
Then let us welcome pleasant spring,
And still the flowery tribute bring,
And still to thee our carol sing,
O lovely May!
Mrs. Hemans.
JUNE.
Come, June! and with beauty fill the earth.
Long have we waited for thy clear blue sky;
Though May is sweet she lacks thy constancy,
And chilly winds oft break the glad world's mirth.
Of lovely flowers and buds there is no dearth;
Far overhead the swift-winged swallows fly,
And watching earth's fair beauty wonder why
They stayed so long in lands of lesser worth.
Lightly the lark mounts up to greet the day,
Forgetful of the Winter's bitter cold;
At eve the nightingale's melodious lay
Charms all the world to slumber as of old.
Ah, sweetest month, would thou couldst with us stay;
Too soon the tale of thy glad days is told.
JULY.
Now is there silence through the summer woods,
In whose green depths and lawny solitudes
The light is dreaming: voicings clear ascend
Now from no hollow where glad rivulets wend,
But murmurings low of inarticulate moods,
Softer than stir of unfledged cushat broods,
Breathe, till o'er-drowsed the heavy flower-heads bend.
Now sleep the crystal and heat-charmed waves
Round white, sun-stricken rocks, the noontide long,
Or, 'mid the coolness of dim-lighted caves,
Sway in a trance of vague deliciousness.
Edward Dowden.
AUGUST.
How fair a sight, that vest of gold,
Those wreaths that August's brow enfold!
Oh, 'tis a goodly sight, and fair,
To see the fields their produce bear.
Waved by the breeze's lingering wing,
So think, they seem to laugh and sing,
And call the heart to feel delight,
Rejoicing in the bounteous sight;
And call the reaper's skilful hand
To cull the riches of the land!
'Tis fair to see the farmer build,
Now here, now there, throughout the field,
With measuring eye correct, that leaves
Fit space between the numbered sheaves.