Now June walks on the waters, And the cuckoo's last enchantment Passes from Olton pools. Now dawn comes to my window Breathing midsummer roses, And scythes are wet with dew. Is it not strange for ever That, bowered in this wonder, Man keeps a jealous heart? . . . That June and the June waters, And birds and dawn-lit roses, Are gospels in the wind, Fading upon the deserts, Poor pilgrim revelations? . . . Hist . . . over Olton pools! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BEAST OF BURDEN by MARIANNE MOORE SUNSET: ST. LOUIS by SARA TEASDALE SIGNS OF THE TIMES by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE DEATH OF AUTUMN by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY PER PACEM AD LUCEM by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER |