High overhead,
By summer breezes sped,
From every latest burgeoned bough
The last, spring petals fall;
And red, red, red,
Along the garden bed,
The poppy plants are holding now
Their crimson carnival.
Clear, sweet, and strong,
I hear the robin’s song,
And catch the merry caroling
Of some bold bobolink;
And phlox flowers throng
The garden ways along,
While peonies and roses bring
Their pageantries of pink.
White, gold, and green,
The lily spires are seen,
And hollyhocks, in stately rows,
With tufted buds are set;
Tall, in between,
The growing sunflowers lean,
And thick the sweet alyssum shows
Among the mignonette.
Ho! truant May!
Have you, then, gone astray,
Unwitting that in realms of June
Return were no avail?
Ah, well-a-day!
So wings the spring away;
The summer’s ever oversoon,
But June, sweet June, all hail!