June

Queenly month of indolent repose!
  I drink thy breath in sips of rare perfume,
  As in thy downy lap of clover-bloom
I nestle like a drowsy child and doze
The lazy hours away.  The zephyr throws
  The shifting shuttle of the Summer's loom
  And weaves a damask-work of gleam and gloom
Before thy listless feet.  The lily blows
A bugle-call of fragrance o'er the glade;
  And, wheeling into ranks, with plume and spear,
Thy harvest-armies gather on parade;
  While, faint and far away, yet pure and clear,
A voice calls out of alien lands of shade:--
  All hail the Peerless Goddess of the Year!