So, June, you come to an end
But as you leave I send
My very best wish and thought;
For your bee and firefly
For green of leaf and blue of sky
You truly owe us nought;
What could ever be exchanged
Or contemplate being re-arranged
For a last day such as this?
English summer sun on lawn
New ambition and hopes born
Wimbledon's first week bliss;
Pavements hot underfoot
The scent of grass cut
Plastic paddling pools filled;
Strolls along riversides
Sleepy hilltops and still tides
White wine glasses chilled;
Bring on sweet July
For you and for I
Let summer play it's tune;
But take a moment to collect
This months glories, then reflect
How wonderful was sweet June
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem