By Lottie Brown Allen
Oh what is more sweet than the month of June
When our senses thrill and our hearts keep tune
To the song of the birds and the rose in bloom?
Oh what is more joy than the early gray
Of the dewy morn and the sun’s first ray
That herald the dawn of a perfect day?
Oh what is more fair as the sun climbs high
Than the azure hue of the summer sky
And the snow-white clouds drifting idly by?
Oh what is more pure than the summer air
That wafts from the woodlands and gardens fair
A fragrance and perfume so rich and rare?
Oh what is more dear than the twilight hour
When the daylight fades and each nodding flower
Is kissed by the moonbeams’ mystic power?
O, Summer Queen! you are gone too soon
With your sunny days and your shining moon,
With your golden grain and your wealth of bloom.
And if we could hold in some magic way
To your trailing robes for a single day,
Dear month of June, we would bid you stay.