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