Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, JUNE, by MARY N. MCDONALD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

JUNE, by                    
First Line: Laughingly thou comest / rosy june
Last Line: And a place beside the loved ones, who are safely gather'd there
Alternate Author Name(s): Meigs, Mary N.; Bleeker, Mary N.
Subject(s): June


LAUGHINGLY thou comest
Rosy June,
With thy light and tripping feet,
And thy garlands fresh and sweet,
And thy waters all in tune;
With thy gift of buds and bells,
For the uplands and the dells,
With the wild-bird and the bee,
On the blossom or the tree,
And my heart leaps forth to meet thee,
With a joyous thrill to greet thee
Rosy June,
And I love the flashing ray
Of the rivulets at play,
As they sparkle into day,
Rosy June!

Most lovely do I call thee,
Laughing June!
For thy skies are bright and blue,
As a sapphire's brilliant hue,
And the heats of Summer noon,
Made cooler by thy breath --
O'er the clover-scented heath,
Which the scythe must sweep so soon.
And thou fan'st the fever'd cheek
With thy softest gales of balm,
Till the pulse so low and weak,
Beateth stronger and more calm.
Kind physician, thou dost lend
Like a tried and faithful friend,
To the suffering and the weary, every blessing thou canst bring
By the sick man's couch of pain,
Like an angel, once again
Thou hast shed a gift of healing, from the perfume-laden wing,
And the student's listless ear,
As a dreamy sound and dear,
Hath caught a pleasant murmur of the insect's busy hum,
Where arching branches meet
O'er the turf beneath his feet,
And a thousand Summer fancies, with the melody have come;
And he turneth from the page
Of the prophet or the sage,
And forgetteth all the wisdom of his books;
For his heart is roving free
With the butterfly and bee,
And chimeth with the music of the brooks,
Singing still their merry tune,
In the flashing light of noon,
One chord of thy sweet lyre, laughing June!

I have heart-aches many a one,
Rosy June!
And I sometimes long to fly
To a world of love and light,
Where the flowerets never die,
Nor the day gives place to night;
Where the weariness and pain
Of this mortal life are o'er,
And we fondly clasp again
All the loved ones gone before.
And I think, to lay my head
On some green and shelter'd bed,
Where, at dawning or at noon,
Come the birds with liquid note
In each tender warbling throat,
Or the breeze, with mournful tune,
To sigh above my grave --
Would be all that I should crave
Rosy June!

But when thou art o'er the earth,
With thy blue and tranquil skies,
And thy gushing melodies,
And thy many tones of mirth --
When thy flowers perfume the air,
And thy garlands wreath the bough,
And my birth-place, even now
Seems an Eden bright and fair --
How my spirit shrinks away
From the darkness of the tomb,
And I shudder at its gloom
While so beautiful the day.
Yet I know the skies are bright,
In that land of love and light,
Brighter, fairer than thine own, lovely June,
No shadow dims the ray,
No night obscures the day,
But ever, ever reigneth, high eternal noon.

A glimpse thou art of heaven
Lovely June!
Type of a purer clime
Beyond the flight of time,
Where the amaranth flowers are rife
By the placid stream of life,
For ever gently flowing,
Where the beauty of the rose
In that land of soft repose,
Nor blight, nor fading knows,
In immortal fragrance blowing.
And my prayer is still to see,
In thy blessed ministry,
A transient gleam of regions that are all divinely fair;
A foretaste of the bliss
In a holier world than this,
And a place beside the loved ones, who are safely gather'd there





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