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Saturday, July 15, 2023

July By Henry Beer (Poem)


July

The days are hot, the weather dry-
It is the month we call July.
We hope to have a bounteous yield
From grain that's ripening in the field.
The grain is threshed and gathered in,
What a thrill to see it fill the bin!
The wheat and barley, oats and rye
All ripen in the month of July;
And nature with a bounteous hand
Pours out her blessing in the land.
A fairer sight is rarely seen
Than the waving corn in fields of green.
It is a festive sight to see
The cherries ripening on the tree,
Which robins view with envying eye
And often take a fair supply.
The ripening raspberries we may view,
Which sparkle in the morning dew;
And blackberries upon the vine
Are seen to ripen at this time.
July displays ins beauties, too,
With bergamot in shades of blue.
The bouncing Bet along the way
And Queen Anne's lace their blooms display.
And often in the month of July
The storm clouds gather in the sky.
There's lightening, thunder, - and the rain
Refreshes garden, field, and plain.
And on a hot and sultry day,
The youth will often wend their way
Into the lake or swimming pool
To be refreshed in waters cool.
July the fourth we celebrate -
It is our Independence date.
For underneath each day and scene,
There rules a wondrous Power Supreme
Which, if you know, you will acclaim,
He's worthy of the highest name!

Page 85 My Garden Of Verse 

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