What Is So Rare As A Day In June Poem by James Russell Lowell

What Is So Rare As A Day In June

And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays;
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, groping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;
The flush of life may well be seen
Thrilling back over hills and valleys;
The cowslip startles in meadows green,
The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean
To be some happy creature's palace;
The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,
And lets his illumined being o'errun
With the deluge of summer it receives;
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,
In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?

Now is the high-tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it,
We are happy now because God wills it;
No matter how barren the past may have been,
'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;
We may shut our eyes but we cannot help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near,
That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,
That the river is bluer than the sky,
That the robin is plastering his house hard by;
And if the breeze kept the good news back,
For our couriers we should not lack;
We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing,
And hark! How clear bold chanticleer,
Warmed with the new wine of the year,
Tells all in his lusty crowing!

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how;
Everything is happy now,
Everything is upward striving;
'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue,
'Tis for the natural way of living:
Who knows whither the clouds have fled?
In the unscarred heaven they leave not wake,
And the eyes forget the tears they have shed,
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache;
The soul partakes the season's youth,
And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe
Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth,
Like burnt-out craters healed with snow.

Thursday, March 26, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: june,weather
Marcia Entzel 02 February 2021

As a freshman in high school, we had to memorize nearly the entire poem. It made no sense to any of us. Now that I'm 77, I understand the words and they are lovely indeed.

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Martha brewer 30 May 2020

Today is such a day!

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Andy Tenery 22 March 2020

It is late March in Austin and everything is shut down waiting for the Plague. This poem makes me feel better.

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Lynne Blanchard 06 June 2019

I have always loved this Poem and quoted it many many times over the years- yesterday was a perfect June day in my area of the Country and thought about this Poem a lot- I just celebrated my 77th Birthday!

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Lois Collice 08 June 2019

I was born June 15,1942. June is a Gift. Today is a real Psalm 118, verse 24 day.

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Great 18 June 2018

I memorized this poem when I was 16 and working in the vineyards of the finger lakes of New York.

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Weelywane 29 May 2019

I, too, remember this poem from when I was in high school in Cicero, Illinois. AND, I still remember the first 10 lines now that I am 89 years young.

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James Russell Lowell

James Russell Lowell

Cambridge, Massachusetts
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