When June is come, then all the day
I sit with my love in the scented hay:
And watch the sunshot palaces high,
That the white clouds build in the breezy sky.
She singeth, and I do make her a song,
And read sweet poems the whole day long:
Unseen as we lie in our haybuilt home.
O life is delight when June is come.
The pinks along my garden walks
Have all shot forth their summer stalks,
Thronging their buds 'mong tulips hot,
- And blue forget-me-not.
Their dazzling snows forth-bursting soon
Will lade the idle breath of June :
And waken thro' the fragrant night
To steal the pale moonlight.
The nightmgale at end of May
Lingers each year for their display ;
Till when he sees their blossoms blown.
He knows the spring is flown.
June's birth they greet, and when their bloom
Dislustres, withering on his tomb.
Then simimer hath a shortening day;
And steps slow to decay.
Robert Bridges
sábado, 1 de junho de 2013
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