Poems (Victor)/A June Song

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
2502455Poems — A June SongFrances Fuller Victor

A JUNE SONG.

O song-birds from the east,
And sea-birds from the west,
And great birds of the shining wing,
That in the northlands nest,
Come, sing to my red, red rose,
And my lilies saintly white,
To my golden poppies sing
Your throatful of delight;
Lilt on the swinging boughs
Of my accacia trees,
And pour your music out upon
The perfume-laden breeze.
Come, songsters of the wood,
And put my heart in tune
To the flowers and the sun
Of this happy land of June.


Cry out, O brave, bright birds
That soar, and swoop and swing
Above the sapphire sea
In a wild wassailing;
Drop down and flick the foam,
As the arrow flies when sped;
Laugh at your startled prey;
And scream to your mates o'erhead;
Be drunken with the joy
Of the sparkling air and brine,
With the glory of the day,
Its shadows and its shine;
With the color and the warmth
Of this June-land by the sea,
That you whirl above in play,
And you scream unto in glee.


Cry, O pilots of the air,
Leading to the lonely meads
By the quiet lakes and cold,
To the land of grass and reeds,
Twixt the northern mountains set
Like a picture in a frame,
In among the headlands bold;
Where the weird northlights flame,
Flashing through the evening sky;
Where the days are still and long,
And the hours are brief that roll—
Filled with murmurs of the song
Sung by cataracts and pines
To the fiercely glowing stars
Swinging round the northern pole—
Back the midnight's ebon bars.


O, winged creatures all,
Of the land or of the sea,
Of the west, or east, or south,
Bird or butterfly or bee,
Or the eagle of the crags,
Breathing of this air divine
Blowing from its maker's mouth,
Quickening the blood like wine,
Sing and cry unto this land,
To this sunland by the sea,
To the sea that bounds this shore
In a summer symphony—
Topaz wave and amber sand—
To this sapphire sea and sky,
To the mountains towering o'er
Vales where shimmering harvests lie;
To this joyous land and free,
To my flowers, and to my heart,
Sing a jocund jubilee—
June is sweet, and life is short.

San Francisco, Cal., 1896.