After a Richter Concert.
In the long, sad time, when the sky was grey,
And the keen blast blew through the city drear,
When delight had fled from the night and the day,
My chill heart whispered, ' June will be here!
' June with its roses a-sway in the sun,
Its glory of green on mead and tree.'
Lo, now the sweet June-tide is nearly done,
Friday, January 3, 2003
Topic(s) of this poem: june