Now at the close of fervid June, 5
Upon this breathless hazy noon,
I seek the deepest darkest shade
Within the covert of that glade,
Which you and I first named our own
When primroses were fully blown, 10
Oaks just were budding, and the grove
Rang with the gladdest songs of love.
Then did the Leader of the Band,
A gallant thrush, maintain his stand