Invocation to June

Come, sweet deliverer of days

That dawn early and linger late

You stir the soul with wholesome praise

For mercies fragrant, flower-shaped

And on a page of greenest phrase

Make common poets laureates

Come, pretty plot of paradise

Rife with new life drawn from staid dust

Where brooks are garnished with soft sighs

Of yellow stars and dreamer’s lust

And every day is like a prize

Pink-purple-gold trophies of trust

Come, season-divined doggerel

Thy poetry is like a prayer

In temples framed by hill and dell

With roof of sky and walls of air

Where testaments of heaven swell

From earthy founts of petal-fare

Come, tender splendor of a tune

Strummed by minstrels of rain and rose

Where choristers of nature croon

The hymns that leaf-lyrists compose

Come, formless pantheon called June

Praise God from whom thy merit flows

© Janet Martin

Sincere apologies to the first no. of readers to this poem, posted before proper proof-reading, with half-writ lines and word repetition, just to name a few of the oopsies corrected!