Where wild phlox crawls in purple rivers
And azure seas of noon-tide gleam
On green fields rolling to forever
Beneath the sun’s coronal beam
Where butter-cups gold-vessel splendor
Pools on bluffs, on banks and hills
And our shadows, long and slender
On the twilight hour spills
Where the willow’s wanton weeping
Tunes the midnight’s moody moan
Where December’s stream lay sleeping
Now it laughs on mud and stones
Where the strain of sunset vesper
Lingers on the trembled hush
As the stain of heaven’s grandeur
Falls in mercy from its brush
Where the nail-hook says ‘gone fishing’
For these drawn-out days are small
Soon the summer heart is wishing
For the hours preceding fall
Where the heart is humbly happy
As the bumbling, tumbling bee
Imbibed with heady lupine-nectar
Fairest June, how we love thee
© Janet Martin
