Come, cuckoo, come; Come again, swift swallow; Come and welcome; where you come Summer's sure to follow. June, the month of months, Flowers and fruitage brings too; When green trees spread shadiest boughs, When each wild bird sings too. May is scant and crude, Generous June is riper; Birds fall silent in July, June has its woodland piper: Rocks upon the maple-top Homely-hearted linnet, Full in hearing of his nest And the dear ones in it. If the year would stand Still at June for ever, With no further growth on land Nor further flow of river, If all nights were shortest nights And longest days were all the seven, -- This might be a merrier world To my mind to live in. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 112. GIBRALTAR by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT OUT WHERE THE WEST BEGINS by ARTHUR CHAPMAN A FRIEND'S SONG FOR SIMOISIUS by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY TO MY BOOKSELLER by BEN JONSON THE RAINY SUMMER by ALICE MEYNELL JOHN PELHAM by JAMES RYDER RANDALL BLUE CANTON-WARE by SARAH A. ATHEARN |