Poems (Radford)/June
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For works with similar titles, see June.
VIIIJune
The skies are blue
O'er the meadow now,
And the leaves are new
On the willow-bough,
While the glad earth sings
In one joyous tune,
All the happy things
Of the happy June.
O'er the meadow now,
And the leaves are new
On the willow-bough,
While the glad earth sings
In one joyous tune,
All the happy things
Of the happy June.
Oh the joyous time
Of the fresh sweet June,
And the happy rhyme
That must die so soon;
But again—again—
When the years are young,
Will the sweet refrain
Be sung—be sung.
Of the fresh sweet June,
And the happy rhyme
That must die so soon;
But again—again—
When the years are young,
Will the sweet refrain
Be sung—be sung.