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James Whitcomb Riley - When June Is Here
Work rating: Low

When June is here--what art have we to sing
    The whiteness of the lilies midst the green
    Of noon-tranced lawns? Or flash of roses seen
  Like redbirds` wings? Or earliest ripening
  Prince-Harvest apples, where the cloyed bees cling
    Round winey juices oozing down between
    The peckings of the robin, while we lean
  In under-grasses, lost in marveling.
    Or the cool term of morning, and the stir
  Of odorous breaths from wood and meadow walks,
    The bobwhite`s liquid yodel, and the whir
  Of sudden flight; and, where the milkmaid talks
  Across the bars, on tilted barley-stalks
    The dewdrops` glint in webs of gossamer.
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