JUNE by William Morris

JUNE by William Morris
(from THE EARTHLY PARADISE)

JUNE, O June, that we desired so,
Wilt thou not make us happy on this day? 
Across the river thy soft breezes blow
Sweet with the scent of beanfields far away,
Above our heads rustle the aspens grey,
Calm is the sky with harmless clouds beset,
No thought of storm the morning vexes yet.

See, we have left our hopes and fears behind
To give our very hearts up unto thee;
What better place than this then could we find
By this sweet stream that knows not of the sea,
That guesses not the city's misery,
This little stream whose hamlets scarce have names,
This far-off, lonely mother of the Thames?

Here then, O June, thy kindness will we take;
And if indeed but pensive men we seem,
What should we do? thou wouldst not have us wake
From out the arms of this rare happy dream,
And wish to leave the murmur of the stream,
The rustling boughs, the twitter of the birds,
And all thy thousand peaceful happy words.

Labours of the Months. c.1862
Burne-Jones, Morris, Rossetti, Ford Madox Brown, Webb
hand-painted on tin-glazed earthenware tiles
William Morris Gallery