Wednesday, June 20, 2018

When June Is Here

Bobwhite Quail

When June is here-what art we have to sing

The whiteness of the lilies midst the green

Of noon-tranced lawns? Or flash of roses seen

Like redbirds wings? Or earliest ripening

Prince-Harvest apples, where the cloyed bees cling

Round winey juices oozing down between

The pecking of the robin, while we lean

In under-grasses, lost in marveling.

Efroymson Restoration Tall Grass Prairie
Kankakee Sands, Indiana

Or the cool term of morning, and the stir

Of odorous breaths from wood and meadow walks,

The bobwhite's liquid yodel, and the whir

Of sudden flight; and, where the milkmaid talks

Across the bars, on tilted barley-stalks

The dewdrops' glint in webs of gossamer.

"When June Is Here"
James Whitcomb Riley
American Poet
Known as the "Hoosier Poet" in his
native state of Indiana, and the "Children's Poet"
for his classic prose, "Little Orphant Annie"
"The Raggedy Man" and other poems.

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