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JUNE.
229
JUNE.
EVER was my life's neglected gardenHalf so full of fragrance as to-day,—
Never has the world been half so radiant,
Nor its shapes of sorrow and dismay
Ever seemed so few and far away.
Wide the chestnut waves its spreading branches,
In a white bewilderment of bloom,—
And the lilacs overwhelmed with blossoms,
Drooping like a wounded warrior's plume,
Hang their faint heads heavy with perfume.
In a white bewilderment of bloom,—
And the lilacs overwhelmed with blossoms,
Drooping like a wounded warrior's plume,
Hang their faint heads heavy with perfume.
On the sea a veil of silvery softness,
Faint, and filmy, and mysterious, lies,—
Blending doubtfully the far horizon
With the azure of the smiling skies,
Tender as the blue of loving eyes.
Faint, and filmy, and mysterious, lies,—
Blending doubtfully the far horizon
With the azure of the smiling skies,
Tender as the blue of loving eyes.
On the grass the fallen apple-blossoms
Heap a pillow rosy-hued and rare,
Heap a pillow rosy-hued and rare,
