A JUNE MEMORY.
THAT rare June eve, with crescent moon
Low hung upon the West;
Shy glint of stars and stir of leaves
And chirp from air-swung nest;
With balmy odors, dew-distilled,
Afloat upon the breeze;
Soft hum of insects, lapse of waves
And whispering of trees,—
Low hung upon the West;
Shy glint of stars and stir of leaves
And chirp from air-swung nest;
With balmy odors, dew-distilled,
Afloat upon the breeze;
Soft hum of insects, lapse of waves
And whispering of trees,—
Thrills through my life a tender pain
Like some sweet, broken vow;
A jewel, golden to the eye,
But heavy on the brow.
The Summer-mother, whose young heart
Throbbed rapture at its birth,
With drooping head and trailing wings
Passed sadly from the earth;
Like some sweet, broken vow;
A jewel, golden to the eye,
But heavy on the brow.
The Summer-mother, whose young heart
Throbbed rapture at its birth,
With drooping head and trailing wings
Passed sadly from the earth;
(3)
