Come, cuckoo, come; Come again, swift swallow; Come and welcome; where you come Summer's sure to follow. June, the month of months, Flowers and fruitage brings too; When green trees spread shadiest boughs, When each wild bird sings too. May is scant and crude, Generous June is riper; Birds fall silent in July, June has its woodland piper: Rocks upon the maple-top Homely-hearted linnet, Full in hearing of his nest And the dear ones in it. If the year would stand Still at June for ever, With no further growth on land Nor further flow of river, If all nights were shortest nights And longest days were all the seven, -- This might be a merrier world To my mind to live in. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COWPER'S GRAVE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE FLOWER OF BEAUTY by GEORGE DARLEY RUNNING THE BATTERIES by HERMAN MELVILLE MY MOTHER by WILLIAM BELL SCOTT ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBITION by HORACE SMITH ANOTHER JOURNEY FROM BETHUNE TO CUINCHY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |