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Poems About: JUNE

In this page, poems on / about “june” are listed.

  • 205.
    The White Rose o' June

    Now the bricht sun, and the soft simmer showers,
    Deck a' the woods and the gardens wi' flowers; read more »

    Carolina Oliphant
  • 206.
    Snowstorm In June

    This day will remain a special day
    But it won't repeat again any soon
    The day when the sun
    Was taken from everyone read more »

    Brielle Intorcia
  • 207.
    The Sailor's Garden

    There's a soft wind singing in the idle rigging,
    High tide splashing, and a young pale moon,
    Lights in a window and a fiddle jigging read more »

    Cicely Fox Smith
  • 208.
    Pierrot

    I work all day,
    Said Simple John,
    Myself a house to buy.
    I work all day, read more »

    Langston Hughes
  • 209.
    Earth's Immortalities

    See, as the prettiest graves will do in time,
    Our poet's wants the freshness of its prime;
    Spite of the sexton's browsing horse, the sods
    Have struggled through its binding osier rods; read more »

    Robert Browning
  • 210.
    On A Bank As I Sate A Fishing: A Description Of The Spring

    And now all Nature seem'd in love,
    The lusty sap began to move;
    New juice did stir th'embracing Vines,
    And Birds had drawn their Valentines: read more »

    Sir Henry Wotton
  • 211.
    Seville

    My Pa and Ma their honeymoon
    Passed in an Andulasian June,
    And though produced in Drury Lane,
    I must have been conceived in Spain. read more »

    Robert William Service
  • 212.
    June

    Broom out the floor now, lay the fender by,
    And plant this bee-sucked bough of woodbine there,
    And let the window down. The butterfly
    Floats in upon the sunbeam, and the fair read more »

    Francis Ledwidge
  • 213.
    The Gift

    She paces
    By his side
    On a quiet street,
    Leafy and wide. read more »

    Paul Hartal
  • 214.
    100th Birthday [Missed By 'Mom'] ...... [SHORT; my mom; death; serious but NOT sad]

    Well Mom missed this day by almost nine years.
    At ninety-one(?) we escorted her from this “veil of tears”.
    But no tears I had the June day she passed.
    Her will was NOT to live just in order to “last”. read more »

    Bri Edwards
  • 215.
    A Wild Rose

    The first wild rose in wayside hedge,
    This year I wandering see,
    I pluck, and send it as a pledge,
    My own Wild Rose, to Thee. read more »

    Alfred Austin
  • 216.
    October in New Zealand


    O JUNE has her diamonds, her diamonds of sheen,
    Meet for a queen’s neck, if Death had e’er a queen!
    June has her blue days, jewels of delight, read more »

    Jessie Mackay
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