June
By Henry Beer
It is the pleasant month of June,
When roses in profusion bloom.
What precious memories come to mind:
To see the rosebush there entwined
Upon the garden gate, aglow,
Which mother planted years ago!
The mock orange, too, is a delight,
With fragrant blossoms, pure and white.
Who does not deem it a rich treat
The luscious strawberries to eat,
Which have emerged from winter's cold,
As the first-fruits of the year unfold?
'Tis in the pleasant month of June
When clover fields are sweet with boom;
The new-mown hay is mowed away -
Provision for the wintry day.
Refreshing showers, the sun's bright glow
Have caused the field of corn to grow.
The longest days of all the year
Within the month of June appear.
There's growing corn, and ripening wheat,
The new-mown hay with fragrance sweet,
The pleasant days and blooming flowers,
The morning dew and frequent showers -
Until there come more perfect days,
The month of June shall have our praise.
When roses in profusion bloom.
What precious memories come to mind:
To see the rosebush there entwined
Upon the garden gate, aglow,
Which mother planted years ago!
The mock orange, too, is a delight,
With fragrant blossoms, pure and white.
Who does not deem it a rich treat
The luscious strawberries to eat,
Which have emerged from winter's cold,
As the first-fruits of the year unfold?
'Tis in the pleasant month of June
When clover fields are sweet with boom;
The new-mown hay is mowed away -
Provision for the wintry day.
Refreshing showers, the sun's bright glow
Have caused the field of corn to grow.
The longest days of all the year
Within the month of June appear.
There's growing corn, and ripening wheat,
The new-mown hay with fragrance sweet,
The pleasant days and blooming flowers,
The morning dew and frequent showers -
Until there come more perfect days,
The month of June shall have our praise.
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