JUNE
Now is the high-tide of the year,And whatever of life hath ebbed awayComes flooding back with a ripply cheer,Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it;We are happy now because God wills it;No matter how barren the past may have been,’Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;We sit in the warm shade and feel right wellHow the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowingThat the skies are clear and the grass is growing;The breeze comes whispering in our ear,That dandelions are blossoming near,That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,That the river is bluer than the sky,That the robin is plastering his house hard by;And if the breeze kept the good news back,For other couriers we should not lack;We could guess it all by yon heifer’s lowing;—And hark! how clear bold chanticleer,Warmed with the new wine of the year,Tells all in his lusty crowing.—From The Vision of Sir Launfal.
Now is the high-tide of the year,And whatever of life hath ebbed awayComes flooding back with a ripply cheer,Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it;We are happy now because God wills it;No matter how barren the past may have been,’Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;We sit in the warm shade and feel right wellHow the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowingThat the skies are clear and the grass is growing;The breeze comes whispering in our ear,That dandelions are blossoming near,That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,That the river is bluer than the sky,That the robin is plastering his house hard by;And if the breeze kept the good news back,For other couriers we should not lack;We could guess it all by yon heifer’s lowing;—And hark! how clear bold chanticleer,Warmed with the new wine of the year,Tells all in his lusty crowing.—From The Vision of Sir Launfal.
Now is the high-tide of the year,And whatever of life hath ebbed awayComes flooding back with a ripply cheer,Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it;We are happy now because God wills it;No matter how barren the past may have been,’Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;We sit in the warm shade and feel right wellHow the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowingThat the skies are clear and the grass is growing;The breeze comes whispering in our ear,That dandelions are blossoming near,That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,That the river is bluer than the sky,That the robin is plastering his house hard by;And if the breeze kept the good news back,For other couriers we should not lack;We could guess it all by yon heifer’s lowing;—And hark! how clear bold chanticleer,Warmed with the new wine of the year,Tells all in his lusty crowing.—From The Vision of Sir Launfal.
Now is the high-tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it;
We are happy now because God wills it;
No matter how barren the past may have been,
’Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;
We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing
That the skies are clear and the grass is growing;
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near,
That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,
That the river is bluer than the sky,
That the robin is plastering his house hard by;
And if the breeze kept the good news back,
For other couriers we should not lack;
We could guess it all by yon heifer’s lowing;—
And hark! how clear bold chanticleer,
Warmed with the new wine of the year,
Tells all in his lusty crowing.
—From The Vision of Sir Launfal.